A Demon, a Muggle, and a Wizard Walk Into a Bar
by Raye Black
Summary: A Harry Potter and Supernatural Crossover. Sam and Dean Winchester are on a hunt for a demon in order to protect the Boy-Who-Lived. The story takes place during the fifth HP book, Dean is nineteen and Sam is fifteen.
1. Chapter 1

Harry was fuming. He couldn't stand being cooped up any longer. He had Ron and Hermione to keep him company, but he could no longer stand not knowing what was going on.

For the past two weeks he had been stuck at Number Twelve Grimmuald Place. Its dark dusty corners were making him feel claustrophobic and his body screamed for fresh air and a long relaxing ride on his Firebolt. He longed for exploration and a change of scenery, but ever since the return of Lord Voldemort he was getting less and less of each.

He was pulled from his lazy stupor when the door slammed open. "Sorry," Ron said apologetically. "Fred and George somehow managed to magically glue the door shut. It wouldn't open."

"So you kicked it open?" Harry asked, only vaguely interested.

"No," a high voice behind Ron answered. "I did." Hermione marched out from behind Ron, her bushy hair bouncing. "Ronald was afraid to hurt his foot."

"I have weak ankles!" Ron exclaimed as Harry tried to stifle his burst of laughter. "For Merlin's sake Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you? Besides, I'm not exactly wearing the proper shoes for kicking down doors-"

"Yes, yes, you're right. You're always right…" Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. She plopped gracefully down onto the bed beside Harry.

Harry was extremely eager for information. "Did you find out anything? He asked the two of them.

Ron leaned against the bed-post. "Well, we went downstairs to the kitchen when the Order was having one of their meetings. There was no one keeping guard so we used one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears to listen in. They didn't say much 'cause the meeting was just about finished but we did hear something…"

"Sirius isn't as cautious as the others, you know." Hermione continued. "He thinks that you have every right to know what's after you. Which you do." She added quickly, seeing Harry's sudden angry expression. "He was yelling about the thing that the Order believes has been sent by You-Know-Who, and then something about _hunting_ it."

Harry felt neither dread nor fear at the thought of something terrible being sent after him by Voldemort; just curiosity and a slight frustration. "Did Sirius say what it was?"

Hermione looked to Ron, who shrugged. "He was just calling it a demon." Hermione continued. "Now, I don't know anything about demons but-"

"You think it's actually a _demon_?" Ron asked, quizzically. "Sirius was probably just calling it a demon just because it's evil."

"Are demons even real?" Harry questioned. "I mean we've never heard anything about them in Defense Against the Dark Arts or Care of Magical Creatures."

Hermione frowned. "Well we haven't exactly had a consistent teacher in Defense Against the Dark Arts, have we? And with Hagrid teaching Care of Magical Creatures…"

Harry rounded on her. "What are you saying, Hermione? That Hagrid's a bad teacher?"

She flushed a light crimson. "No!" she exclaimed quickly. "No, I was just thinking that with Hagrid's love of dangerous magical creatures that we- that we might have heard of them if they _were_ real. I mean, they are supposed to be extremely dangerous, right? But of course there's a chance they _might _be."

Harry knew Hermione was lying, but he didn't call her on it. He suddenly felt very sluggish and had no fight left in him.

"Demon's aren't real, Harry." Ron cut in. "They're just in stories to scare kids so they don't lie to their Mummies and Daddies." He rolled his eyes. "It's all a bunch of mythology."

"How can you say anything's 'mythology'?" Hermione laughed, gesturing about her. "Witches and wizards and vampires are supposed to be myths, but here we stand! There's evidence of demonic lore is everywhere! The Bible, the Torah-"

"Yeah- both of which are books made by Muggles." Ron added, chuckling.

"Oh, just because Muggles wrote them their lore can't be based on fact?" Hermione countered.

"Sirius was just using 'demons' as a figure of speech, 'Mione! He didn't really mean actual _demons_!"

"You think so? Then how do you explain what Lupin said back to Sirius?"

Harry had drifted off in thought during their argument, but perked up again. "What did Lupin say? He asked.

Hermione and Ron turned to each other again. "Lupin said Dumbledore had hired someone to protect you. He said that Dumbledore had hired 'experts' to 'take care' of the demon. He said they were _hunters_."

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Sam was unhappy. Ok, that was an understatement. He was furious. This was the third time this year he was being forced to move. It was always the same old story- he'd move to a new town, be the new kid at school, and then when he finally fit in and made new friends, his father would announce that he, Sam, and Dean had to travel cross-country again, and then the cycle would repeat itself. At fifteen, Sam still felt shy and awkward around new people and new classmates. He was nothing like his older brother Dean, who had graduated early this year and had a confidence Sam could never even hope to have.

Sam noticed Dean eying him concerned. "You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered quickly, hoping his eyes didn't look too glassy. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean nodded, keeping his hazel eyes on the road as he followed Dad. "Good." He said back. It was dark, as they drove in the Impala. Their father was in his truck ahead, and Sam noticed that around them there was more and more traffic whizzing by. He and Dean were used to wide open roads, less respect for speed limits, and not so many people. So they were a bit alarmed at the fact that they were headed into a city.

"Dude, where are we going?" Sam asked his brother.

"I dunno, man, maybe Dad made a wrong turn?"

But that didn't seem to be the case. John Winchester seemed to know exactly where they were headed.

Sam questioned Dean further, wondering why Dad hadn't told either of them where they were moving to.

"I have no idea! He didn't tell me squat! I thought maybe he 'd told you!" Dean insisted.

Sam shook his head. "Dad never tells me anything except, 'Pack your bags, boy, we've got another job.' Or 'Why don't you cut your hair? You look like a girl.'"

Dean smirked. "Well it is getting a little long there, _Samantha_. Dad's totally right about you being a girl."

Sam rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. "Shut up, man." He grumbled, putting a hand through his hair subconsciously.

Half an hour later, they were practically stopped in traffic, and Dean looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "God dammit!" he exclaimed, as another car cut him off. "Did you see how close that idiot got to my baby?! You jerk!" he yelled out the window and flipped the other car the bird. At a red light, Dean slid a hand down his aggravated face. "I honestly have no idea how people can live in places like this! It's insane!"

"Well Dean, some people might call hunting ghosts and demons and monsters insane, but here we are." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah well, at least we get to kill our problems. If I killed the sons-a-'bitches 'round here _I'd_ be the monster…" he slammed an angry hand on his steering wheel as another car ran a red light. "I mean, c'mon! That's just wrong!" He slammed his fist on the horn again.

Sam was less interested in the traffic on the road and paying more attention to the traffic in the sky. He noticed that there were more and more planes taking off and landing somewhere nearby. The Impala began to shake a bit every time one flew overhead. A realization then dawned upon him and Sam knew that if his realization was truth, in a matter of minutes Dean would be even _more_ upset.

"Why don't we put on a little Metallica, huh?" Sam suggested, rifling through Dean's cassette tape collection.

"Sound's good to me." Dean answered gruffly. As soon as the music began to play, Dean visibly relaxed. That is, until they pulled into the airport.

Luckily no one was too close behind them, because Dean slammed on the brakes. "Oh nah-uh, you gotta be KIDDING ME!" The older Winchester let out a stream of vulgar curses and in a panic, pulled onto the side of the road, no longer following their father's truck. "You knew about this didn't you, Sam!" Dean shouted, accusingly.

"Dean, I swear I didn't! I have no idea what we're doing here." Sam admitted. Sam definitely would have told Dean if John had told him they were flying somewhere. Sam had always thought his brother wasn't afraid of anything- until last year when they had flown from California to Pennsylvania and Dean had positively freaked out. His brother was deathly afraid of planes and flying and nothing could quell that fear.

John Winchester apparently had noticed that his boys were no longer following him. He too pulled onto the side of the road, and walked back to the still Impala.

Dean turned off the car and leaped out, slamming the door behind him, Sam followed suit.

"What the hell, Dad? You can't be serious!" Dean bellowed.

"Son," John began calmly. "Settle down-"

"No way, Dad! Not this time!" Dean was nineteen, and tall, but he still looked small compared to his father. Nevertheless, he approached the older man aggressively, and John looked intimidated for a nanosecond. "You cannot honestly be serious about flying somewhere."

Sam could tell John was trying to be reasonable, but Dean never disobeyed him so he looked at a loss of what to say. "You're going, Dean, and that's final."

Dean was defiant, but he was so shaken, he couldn't seem to string together a good argument. "Why didn't you tell us where we were going?" he questioned, more softly.

John frowned. "Why? 'Cause I knew if I told you, you'd hightail it outta here. And I didn't tell Sammy 'cause I knew he'd tell you and then you'd _both_ hightail it outta here."

Sam sighed. He knew there was no arguing with his father at this point. "Where are we going, Dad?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw that Dean was staring him, looking betrayed.

"A little further than usual." John answered simply, scratching the rough stubble on his chin.

Dean blanched. "Further meaning..?"

"London, England." Sam noticed that as John said this, he looked more worried than he'd been in awhile. "I got a… call… from a friend a few days ago. Needs help with a demon."

"Our demon?" Sam asked quickly.

John acknowledged Sam for the first time. "Could be. Either way, I told my friend we'd take care of it. This case is extremely important."

"Why's that?" Sam was curious. "What makes this case more important than any other?"

"It just is." His father answered, causing him to frown.

"Fine, let's just take a boat then." Dean suggested, his eyes wide and pleading.

John sighed, obviously annoyed. "No Dean. A boat would take to long. We're flying to London. Our flight leaves in two hours." John began walking back to his truck, his back turned to his boys. "We've got work to do." He said over his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

Even with Sirius moping around Grimmuald Place after Harry was cleared of all charges during his hearing, Harry couldn't help but feel a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Then again, he was now bearing the burden of having something else evil, something that was potentially _worse_ than a dementor being sent after him. He found himself becoming increasingly more worried at the thought. How could anything be more dangerous or more fearsome than fear itself?

It was a few days after the hearing. Harry hadn't been outdoors since then, and was stuck inside with the Weasley's, Hermione, and Sirius, attempting to clean the decrepit house. Years of filth and muck covered almost every inch of their bodies, and each nursed bumps and bruises from close encounters with doxies, pixies, and other such pests. The same amount of people came in and out of the house- Lupin, Tonks, and once to Harry's horrid surprise, Snape, who practically dashed out of the house after seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins come walking down the stairs- but the house had been uncharacteristically slow with company. Then the door slammed open.

Lupin, Tonks, Snape, Kingsley, Mad-Eye Moody, and Mundungus Fletcher burst into the downstairs, causing the disgusting portrait of Mrs. Black to spring to life to wail furiously.

Mrs. Weasley hurried out from the kitchen. "Remus," she began. "What-?"

Lupin appeared to be out of breath and looked slightly anxious. Harry noticed that they all looked at least slightly put out. "Dumbledore sent us. He says the hunters are on their way here."

Mrs. Black continued to scream in the background. "FILTH! BLOOD-TRAITORS! TAINTED HALF-BREEDS-!"

Mrs. Weasley suddenly mirrored his worried expression. "Oh," she gasped. "He sent all of you? Is Dumbledore coming?"

Tonks ruffled her bubble-gum pink hair thoughtfully. "Nobody's sure. Maybe he wanted all of us to be here to meet them, in case the hunters are-"

"Just in case." Remus butted in pointedly, noticing Harry, Ron, and Hermione peeking around the corner of the stairs.

"-ABOMINATIONS! BEFOULING THE HOUSE OF MY PUREBLOOD ANCESTORS!"

Sirius pounded down the stairs. "What in Merlin's name is going on?" he exclaimed, slamming his mother's portraits' curtains' closed with great effort. Silence fell upon them all. "What are you lot doing here?" he asked the large group that had suddenly congregated at his doorstep.

Mad-Eyed Moody briskly closed the door quietly behind him. "This is no place to talk about top-secret Order of the Phoenix information." He growled to them all in his gruff voice, and limped forward. "Let's take this into the kitchen."

Harry's curiosity was overwhelming. "Why?" he asked quickly, following them all. "Why does this have to be so secret? Why can't I know what's after me-?"

Moody turned both his normal eye and his magical eye on him "Dumbledore's orders, boy."

Harry felt a stab of betrayal at the mention of Dumbledore. Why couldn't Dumbledore trust Harry anymore? Was he that untrustworthy? He shook the thought off and continued. "If something besides Voldemort and a couple of dementors are after me, don't you think I should know what it is, so that I at least have a fighting chance?"

Tonks, Kingsley, Lupin, and even Mundungus, looked torn as to whether or not they should actually tell him. But Mrs. Weasley wasn't going to allow that.

She turned to him. "Harry, you are just a child." She spoke as she would to a three year old. "You shouldn't be troubled with things like this-"

"But I _am_ troubled with this!" he yelled. Mrs. Weasley looked tremendously surprised- Harry never yelled at her. He knew she meant well, but he deserved to know the truth. "These things keep happening to _me_! They are _about me_! I have every right to know what-"

"No you don't!" She interrupted. "You don't have the right to know any information. _You're not in the Order_!"

It was Sirius' turn to round on Mrs. Weasley. "Then let him join!" he exclaimed. This had to be the one hundredth time the two of them had had this argument. "Harry should know about the hunters _and _the d-"

"SIRIUS BLACK DON'T YOU **DARE **SAY ANOTHER WORD!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, sounding as loud and frightening as Mrs. Black's portrait.

Sirius took a step backward, his handsome face shocked and dumbstruck, as though her order had physically struck him. He quickly composed himself and looked ready to retort, when the doorbell rang.

The entire group fell silent again and stared at the door. They were all thinking the same thing; everyone involved in the Order knew not to ring the doorbell. The hunters had to be here.

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Sorry this chapter's so short- I promise the next one will be longer. Write a review? It'll make my day :)


	3. Chapter 3

To Sam's surprise, Dean got on the plane. It was apparently a surprise to Dean himself, because the older Winchester brother got on the plane, almost calmly. But as soon as the plane started taking off, Dean began to shake uncontrollably, gripping the armrests so tight that their paint began to peel off, and turned an impossible shade of green.

As the trip progressed, Dean hurried back and forth, to and from the airplane bathroom. The stewardesses finally steered clear from the three Winchester men when they realized that nothing was going to soothe Dean's flight. He was one unhappy flyer.

The next couple of hours were highly uneventful, especially for the Winchesters. The three men had grown accustomed to constant action and surprises, so they were suspicious at first when the ride was so calm- besides Dean's violent vomiting. But when they realized that no one on the plane was going to try to kill them or suck their blood, they each were able to catch up on some sleep.

They arrived in London a few hours later and Sam had never seen Dean so happy to be on solid ground. Sam knew that if Dean wasn't around so many people, he would've knelt down and kissed the ground.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked his brother.

Dean, though happier, was still a sick grey color, and only grunted in response.

Sam tried not to smile. "Well if it's any consolation, you look and smell like death." he said.

Dean gave him the one-fingered-salute in response.

"Quit messing around you two, we've got places to be." John Winchester barked from baggage claim, where he shouldered only a few bags.

It was impossible to bring their weapons, charms, and knives through airport security, so Sam knew his father was even more frustrated and irritable than usual. They'd have to buy all new supplies to go on this international hunt. All they had packed was a few pairs of t-shirts, jeans, boots, salt, a couple of Latin Exorcism books, an EMF reader, and some holy water. The three Winchesters would much rather have access to the full arsenal in the Impalas trunk; but of course they had been forced to leave her behind.

John hated crowds, so the boys were out of the airport and into the streets of London in a matter of minutes.

Outside was humid and stormy, like it was ready to rain, but Sam was in awe of the scenery and buildings around him. However Dean and John were less impressed. They were in England for business, so Sam reluctantly forced himself after his father and brother, and toward wherever this job would take them.

They were in a rental car parked outside apartment buildings eleven and thirteen. Number Twelve Grimmuald Place did not exist. Dean came to the sad conclusion that all the years of hunting had finally gotten to his father; John Winchester had lost his mind.

"Wizards, Dad?" Dean asked calmly, staring at his father. "And witches? _Good_ witches?"

His father sighed. "Yes, Dean. Good witches and wizards. That's who we're here to help."

On the way to the apartment buildings, John Winchester had gone on a rant about their job here in London. It was the same story as before- a friend calling Dad up needing help with potential Yellow-Eyed Demon activity, but the story began to evolve half-way there. John explained that his friend was a wizard. A powerful wizard that was a professor of other young magical children which was all part of a secret underground wizarding society. And according to John their job went further than all that: they were in England to protect a boy wizard prophesized to defeat an evil wizard. Dean was pretty sure John had said the evil wizard's name was Lord Boldybort. That's where he drew the crazy-line.

Dean did not take his eyes off John's. "You're sure you're feeling alright? Did you maybe catch what I had on the plane? Sammy, get Dad some aspirin from my duffle…"

"This is why I didn't tell you before we got here." John explained, shoving his younger son's hand away that held the medicine. "I knew you'd react this way. Hell, I'd probably react this way if I were you-"

"No kidding?" Dean answered under his breath.

"But it's the truth." John stated. "Now we're going in there and you'll do exactly as I say when I say to do it. Understand?"

"No, Dad, we don't understand. Wanna know why? Because _Number Twelve Grimmuald Place doesn't exist_!" Sam complained from the backseat.

John opened his door and stepped out. "Fine then. Humor me. If it doesn't exist we'll go straight back to the US and you can throw me in the first straight-jacket you can find." He slammed his door shut.

Dean turned around in his front seat to face Sam.

"Dean, Dad's lost his mind." Sam said softly, his brown eyes as round as quarters.

"I know man. Believe me I know. But let's flank him just in case…" The two brothers quickly got out of the rental and walked toward their father who waited for them.

"Glad you decided to join me." John scoffed. He shoved a crumpled piece of paper at Dean's chest. "Here memorize this."

Dean glanced down at the paper. It said, _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmuald Place, London_.

"Listen, Dad," Dean began, glancing nervously around him. "Someone's gonna call the cops on us for trespassing, let's just go-"

John snatched the paper from Dean and gave it to Sam, who read it as well.

"Dad!" Dean growled. "Are you even listening to me? Number Twelve Grimmuald Place does not exist! You're acting crazy! Just-"

"Dean!" Sam cut in with a gasp. "Look!"

Dean whirled around, and his mouth fell open. An entire building, grimy and old, had somehow pushed itself between buildings eleven and thirteen. It had not been there seconds before. It was real, not an illusion, and Dean was at a complete loss for words.

John smirked. "I'm crazy, huh?" John grabbed hold of the silver serpent door knocker and banged hard on the door three times. He raised his graying eyebrows. "You two might want to compose yourselves, you look ridiculous."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, still gaping, and still in utter shock, but obeyed. Dean couldn't help but hope that maybe their father _was_ a little crazy. He really wasn't in the mood to hang around with witches and wizards…

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Harry looked around at the members of the Order around him to Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione and Ron, crouched on the stairs. The lot of them was still standing, watching the now silent door. Finally he could take the suspense no longer. He started to walk forward, seeing as nobody else was, but was knocked back by the scarred hands of Alastor Moody.

"Are you mad, boy?" the grizzled man hissed. "We're trying to keep you safe, and there you go trying to open a door when you don't even know who's behind it. What are they teaching you kids in school these days-?"

"Well seeing as _you_ can see behind and through doors, why don't you enlighten us, Mad-Eye?" said Kingsley in his deep voice, speaking up for the first time.

Moody's bright blue eye swiveled to the door and stared hard. "Lemme see the photo of the hunters again." He demanded, taking a picture from Lupin.

Harry peered over the Auror's shoulder. He didn't get a good glimpse of the hunters, but he did see it long enough to notice that the photographed men were not moving like in the enchanted pictures used in the wizarding world.

"It definitely looks like them," Moody growled. "But everyone keep their wands at the ready. Remember- _elementary wand safety_ everyone. They may look like our hunters but that doesn't mean they aren't Dark Wizards using Polyjuice Potion to fool us." He motioned Lupin toward the door. "If one of us dies, the rest of us must continue to fight; understood?"

"Yes, yes," Tonks sighed. Harry knew she was used to his constant suspicion of Death Eaters and Dark Wizards, but Hermione and Ron both blanched from their position in the back.

Lupin was at the door and he slowly opened it. The room was immediately bathed in a sudden bright light that had emerged from behind the stormy clouds outside. Three huge silhouettes cast long shadows on the group gathered near the door. The silhouettes were clearly three men. Harry could not see their faces, but was already largely intimidated by their size.

The man in the middle seemed to stare around at them all, but Harry wasn't sure due to the shadow obscuring his face. "Is Dumbledore here?" the man asked. He had an American accent and his voice was low, husky, and commanding, like a more confident and charming version of Moody's.

Moody and Tonks walked up behind Lupin. "No," Lupin said briskly. "He's not."

The man in the middle nodded. "Then which one of you is Remus Lupin?"

"We'll be asking the questions," Moody barked back, his wand out in front of him, poised and ready like a saber. "Who are you?"

"John Winchester." the man in the middle said. "And these are my boys, Sam and Dean." John Winchester pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and handed it to Lupin. "We're your hunters. But of course you already knew that."

"Are you?" Moody answered coldly. "Well I'll be the judge of that. I think we should start off with a little interrogation, then maybe a little Veritaserum, for questioning, just to be sure-"

"Now, Alastor," a familiar British voice scolded, from somewhere behind the Winchester men. "This is no way to treat company…"

_Dumbledore!_ thought Harry, excitedly. Maybe the old professor hadn't abandoned him after all…

The silhouettes of the Winchester boys disappeared as they moved aside for the taller, thinner frame of Albus Dumbledore. "John," Dumbledore greeted, shaking hands with the hunter. "It's been far too long…"

"Sure has, Albus," John answered, and Harry could almost hear the smile in his voice. "What's it been: nine, ten years?"

"Ten years this December." Dumbledore answered, softly. "But this is no place for reintroductions; perhaps we can all get better acquainted and re-acquainted in the kitchen?"

John simply nodded in response, and allowed Dumbledore to lead him and his two boys inside. Harry and the others parted to make room for the four of them, and before Harry could come to his senses, Dumbledore had disappeared into the kitchen with the Winchester men. Molly, Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Mundungus, and Kingsley all rushed in after them. "Professor Dumbledore, sir! Professor Dumbledore!" Harry called, but the kitchen door was swiftly closed and magically locked in his face.

Review pretty please? Thanks to everyone who already did! I really appreciate it!


	4. Chapter 4

Dean was under the impression that they had actually stepped into another job, a different hunt- perhaps a haunted house or something along those lines. Number Twelve Grimmuald Place looked, smelled, and felt like one of the many haunted houses he had traveled to in his lifetime 'working' as a hunter. It was dark, gloomy, dirty, and a bit moldy. Deep shadows lined the corners of the walls and Dean could have sword he'd seen a small, wrinkled, creepy face of some sort of creature, poking out from behind a curtain. The dark was something he was taught to be watchful of.

He could see it in Sam's eyes too- in his eyes was the caution and the distrust of the strangers surrounding him. Dean felt a pang of sadness that his little brother had spent his entire life with a constant lack of confidence in the intentions of others. It wasn't fair to the poor kid…

The kitchen they entered looked more like a basement to Dean. It probably once was, except now a large fire burned brightly in a fireplace on the far wall, shining on the pots, pans, and spoons hanging precariously from the ceiling. The Winchesters and the rest of the group all sat at a huge, scrubbed, wooden table, in various mix and matched chairs. Dumbledore's friends seemed wary of John, Sam, and Dean and sat facing them instead of beside them.

The man called Dumbledore seemed to either take no notice of the separation or chose not to care. He surprised the boys by addressing them first.

"Dean and Samuel," to old man chuckled. "You both have grown quite a bit since our last meeting…'

Dean raised his eyebrows. "We've met before?" he blurted.

"Just once." Dumbledore continued. "You couldn't have been more than nine and Sammy was just a little boy. My apologies; do you still go by Sammy? Or is it Samuel, now?"

Sam looked startled at being spoken to. "It's just, Sam." He replied quickly, eyes averted.

Dumbledore smiled, and Dean noticed a playful twinkle in his blue eyes. "Of course, it's Sam."

So far Dean liked this Dumbledore guy- he somehow reminded him a bit like a white bearded, clean, proper, British, Bobby Singer- if that were even physically possible...

"I'm sure your father told you a little about our demonic predicament we have here? One of our few is in extreme danger, and I asked your father if he could be of assistance."

Dean muffled a snort, which he hoped sounded like a cough. "He also said you were witches and wizards-" Dean looked to see the serious faces around him. Nobody else thought this was funny. "-which I guess was the truth..?"

Dumbledore smiled serenely at him. "Yes, Dean, we are. Each of us is a part of the magical community. Your father hasn't lost his mind…" Dean wondered for a brief moment if Dumbledore had been eavesdropping on their conversation outside or was reading his mind.

John cleared his throat. "I'm afraid my boys and I are no good at this getting 'acquainted' stuff, Albus. We'd much rather get down to business-"

"Of course, John, I let time make a fool of me yet again…" he looked across the table to the silent and still group. "I'd like you all to officially meet, John, Dean, and _Sam_, Winchester. They're our demon hunters."

One man with long dark hair sat back in his chair, acting calm and collective like he owned the place. "May I ask how a family of Muggles comes into the business of demon hunting?"

A frown played upon Dumbledore's old features. "Sirius, I don't believe that's anyone's business but their own."

Sirius was not discouraged. "Are there even enough demons to exorcise to make a business out of it?" he asked, with an air of superiority.

Dean's father's face was hard. He looked menacing with the flicker of the fireplace flames dancing across his rough features. "I'd hardly call it a business."

Dean felt useless sitting in silence. "Besides," he butted in. "We don't only hunt demons."

He felt his father's eyes on him, ordering him to back down, but he stared at the man called Sirius instead.

"Is that so?" Sirius drawled. "What other sort of things do you hunt, Dean?"

"Anything _evil_." Dean countered, not in the least intimidated. "Vampires, ghosts, werewolves," (out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the man who answered the door, Lupin, flinch) "poltergeists, witches-"

A plump and motherly looking woman with bright red hair gasped in horror.

"That's enough, Dean." snarled John. This time Dean obeyed. He rested his elbows on his knees and like Sam, began to avoid eye-contact with anyone.

"I don't see how we're supposed to be able to trust them, Dumbledore," Sirius went on. "Especially with Harry."

"Sirius your concern is appreciated but I assure you that this is the best help we could ever hope to obtain. We could have Ministry Aurors who might possibly betray us guard your godson; or we can have the most skilled and accomplished family of demon hunters to do so. And I am going to have to insist on the latter of the two options."

Dean observed that Dumbledore's word seemed to be law around here, because Sirius, though disgruntled, nodded curtly in response.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, beaming. "The Winchesters are highly trustworthy and no harm from them shall befall upon any of you. The same courtesy is expected vice versa." Dumbledore pointedly eyed a man with a swiveling blue eye. "Now I believe is a better time for introductions. If the rest of you would please excuse John and I, we have a few matters to discuss…"

Sam and Dean stared hard at their father, who nodded and shooed them away with three fingers, his secret signal for "Be careful- only minimal danger-behave".

Reluctantly, Sam, Dean left their father, and proceeded up the stairs with the witches and wizards.

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	5. Chapter 5

Sam had gone up the staircase first. As he opened the door to exit the kitchen, he felt an unexpected bit of resistance, and then heard a loud "OOF!", and what sounded like a body crumpling to the floor. With a huge swell of embarrassment, he realized he had hit someone.

He quickly hurried out from behind the door. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed to a red haired boy, who he had knocked down to the ground. The boy looked up at him, nursing a rather large red bump, which continued to swell by the second, on his forehead.

Above him, he heard a sudden roar of laughter.

Sam looked up to see about a half a dozen other kids about his age cackling hysterically on the stairway. Two identical red haired boys were literally gripping onto the railing for dear life due to their uncontrollable fit of laughter at the other boy's expense. Sam had had enough 'sibling experiences' in his life to know that these two were the boy's older brothers…

Sam ignored them momentarily and extended a long arm to the boy on the ground. "I'm really sorry…" he apologized again.

The boy did not take his hand and helped himself up, his freckled face crimson from either humiliation or anger.

Dean was suddenly behind Sam. "Okaaaaaaay, **Rude**-y Mc**Rude**-erson." He mocked, childishly. "My brother said he was sorry."

Sam whirled around to glare at him. These people didn't trust them in the first place and Dean was only making it worse.

The adults followed them from downstairs began to assemble in a whispering jumble. The red headed woman that was probably his mother glared at the boy with the bump. "Ronald, what are you doing down here?" she looked up to where the other children were. "And why aren't you lot in your rooms like you should be?" A realization dawned upon her face as she stared hard at her twins. "YOU'VE BEEN USING THOSE EXPANDABLE EARS AGAIN, HAVEN'T YOU?!" she screeched suddenly, almost making Sam yelp in surprise and making Ronald run up to his friends.

Her twins down turned faces immediately looked horror struck. "Mum!" one said, with a flicker of annoyance. "It's _Extendable_ Ears. Not 'expandable'. And of course we're not using them!"

"I don't care what they're called! You are not to use them!"

"My dear beautiful mother, we would never dream of going against your wishes!" the other twin called down. "Especially not in front of such fine company!" he saluted to Sam and Dean. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean saluted back.

Their mother pointed a finger at them. "We'll talk about this later." She warned them.

"We'll count the minutes 'til then!" the boys said in unison. Beside him, Dean chuckled. He seemed to like those two…

Their mother pushed her hair behind her ears. "Forgive me for being so rude, everyone." She said.

"Not at all, Molly." the man called Lupin answered. "Do you think I could have a spot of tea?" he asked. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather…" Now that Sam got a real good look at him, Lupin did look sick. His hair was greyer than it should have been and the scars covering his face looked like wrinkles.

"Tea!" Molly gasped. "Of course, Remus…" she bustled into another room distractedly; Lupin nodded once at Sam and Dean and went after her.

"Well this has been awkward for far too long," a pretty woman with punk pink hair sighed. She marched right up to Dean. "I'm Tonks," she said, her heart-shaped face gave off a glow and she looked genuinely happy to be meeting the Winchesters.

Sam found it positively remarkable that Dean could be horribly ill only hours before, and somehow in front of all these people, could look like a rugged model. "I'm Dean," he took her small hand in his large one and shook, radiating confidence. "The dork to my left is Sam."

Tonks' laugh was high and cartoonish, but it suited her. She shook hands with Sam too. Sam noticed she was very pretty, in an odd sort of way.

"I'm sorry everyone around here is acting so strange," she continued. "But I promise they all have _some_ manners and are all able to communicate in one way or another." She winked. "They just aren't used to having gents such as yourselves around."

Two men, the one called Sirius, and another man with greasy black hair and a long hooked nose, left the hall abruptly in two different directions. But the big black man got the hint. "Kinsley Shacklebolt." He stated in a deep booming voice. "And if we believe that there is no longer a threat do you think it'd be alright if I head back to the Ministry?"

The gargoyle-man with the searching blue eye growled, "Go on then, Kingsley. I don't think these hunters are anything we can't handle."

Dean frowned, and opened his mouth, but Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

Tonks shook her head. "The grumpy man with the crazy eye is Moody. Just call him Mad-Eye though," she grinned. "He'll never admit it but he likes it."

Sam smiled politely but Mad-Eye said nothing.

Kingsley Shacklebolt bowed, and left Grimmuald Place without a fleeting glance.

"I best be off then too," hiccupped a dirty and bedraggled man that hadn't spoken up until now. He had bloodshot eyes that sagged like a basset hounds. "Me name's Mundungus Fletcher by the way." He walked by and Sam's nostrils were overpowered by the smell of some sort of alcohol. "It's good to meet you, lads. If you ever need anythin' from yer old buddy Dung, don't think twice 'bout askin'." He waved a farewell to the kids on the stairs, and left, still staggering drunkenly.

Sam felt a lot calmer now that the crowd had dispersed. Now it was only he, Dean, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and the group of six kids, who still stood awkwardly on the stairs.

Tonks shook her head again, muttering something about 'manners'. "Oi! You lot!" she called to them. "Come introduce yourselves. Mad-Eye and I are going to go grab some tea as well." Mad-Eye began to object, but Tonks pulled him away, still smiling at Dean.

The kids traipsed down the stairs finally; everyone but the twins looked hesitant. They were shorter than Dean, and identical down to the last freckle. They walked up to Sam and each took one of his hands and shook them vigorously. "You're our hero." They said in unison. "Anyone that hits Ron in the face with a door is a friend of ours." one then said. "He's Fred and I'm George."

The other twin, Fred, patted his younger bruised brother on the shoulder. "And you already met Ron."

Ron shook Fred away. "Shove off." he grumbled. Ron's bump was very apparent on his pale freckled face, and he was almost as tall and lanky as Sam- but not quite.

"That one's Hermione," George continued, pointing to a fairly pretty girl with extremely bushy hair. She blushed. "That one's Ginny," he gestured to the other girl, very beautiful and obviously a sibling, with deep red hair and a perfect face and complexion. "We're more than capable to introduce ourselves, George-" she began but Fred cut her off. "And the boy in the back that's skinnier than humanly possible is Harry."

Harry had round glasses, bright green eyes, and a very obvious lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Fred's description was more than accurate, Harry looked starved. He also looked like the kind of kid Dean used to want to beat up on a regular basis. But Harry was also strangely familiar to Sam. He wondered why…

"So, let me get this straight." Harry said, his voice lower and more mature than Sam had expected. "You two are hunters?"

Dean scratched his nose. "Yup. And let me get _this_ straight, you guys are all witches?"

The girls giggled. "Girls are witches." It was the bushy haired girl Hermione. "Boys are considered wizards, and in some countries warlocks. They're just gender based terms for people with magical blood. But warlock usually has a dark connotation to it. However in the 16th century-"

"Thanks for the magical history lesson, Hermione." Fred interrupted, yawning pointedly. "That was about as enlightening and fun as one of Professor Binns' lessons…"

Hermione huffed, annoyed.

"What do you hunt?" Harry pressed.

Sam shrugged. "All sorts of things. Anything that's supernatural."

Dean began to recite his list, counting on his fingers as he did; "Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, poltergeists, pagan gods, demons-"

"Demons?" gasped Harry, glancing at the stunned faces of Ron and Hermione. "Demons are real?"

"Yeah actually." Dean stated. "A demon job is kinda why we're here."

Sam knew right away from the shocked look on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces that Dean had said too much.

Review? Pretty please???


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione stared at Sam and Dean Winchester in disbelief. Ever since she'd learned she was a witch a bit over five years ago, she'd made learning everything about magic her main priority. She was determined to not be _that_ _Muggleborn_ who knew nothing about the wizarding world. But now she felt somewhat slighted. These American Muggle's came waltzing in, knowing things, incredibly important things, which she did not. Granted- they weren't just Muggles, they were hunters.

_Very _good looking_ hunters_, a very un-Hermione-ish thought popped up in her head. She blushed again.

But _demons_; _real_ demons- the kind that come from Hell and possess and make their hosts throw-up pea soup? Although she had fought about the existence of demons with Ron, she only did it for arguments sake; and perhaps a little because she liked bothering him- but only just a little. But she hadn't really even _believed_ her own argument at the time…

That had to mean what Sirius had previously said was true- a demon _was_ after Harry. To make matters worse, it was a _demon _sent by _Lord Voldemort_.

Sam looked from his older brother to Harry, who still looked skeptical, but the younger Winchester must have thought it was fear. "Don't worry; a demon's nothing we can't handle." He explained.

"_Nothing you can't handle_?" Ron gasped, and Hermione felt strangely embarrassed. "How old _are_ you exactly?"

Sam frowned, and Hermione thought every crinkle in his forehead was absolutely adorable. "Dean's nineteen, and I'm fifteen."

"Great!" Ron whispered sarcastically. "Absolutely fantastic! So two Muggles that are our age are going to protect Harry from You-Know-Who _and _a demon?"

Dean looked puzzled. "Who knows who?" he began, but Sam cut him off.

"It's not just me and Dean- it's our Dad too. Dad's the best there is. Trust me on this: we're good hunters. We won't let anything happen to you, Harry. Or to any of you."

Hermione found herself listening intently to Sam's every word. She couldn't take her eyes off him, and he noticed. He caught her eye and she looked away, horribly flushed.

She looked at Harry instead, and saw that his expression changed. He didn't look frightened or confused, he just looked angry. His emerald green eyes flashed dangerously beneath his glasses. He was always so angry nowadays-

"So Dumbledore and the others _just_ decided it's alright for me to know there's a demon on my ass now?" he growled, his skinny body looked younger next to Sam and Dean's wider, taller, more matured forms. "I mean a demon? C'mon- that's rather important wouldn't you say?"

"Well, we're not exactly sure we were supposed to tell you." Sam looked pointedly at Dean, who raised his eyebrows.

"Oops." He muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Harry laughed bitterly. "That's even better." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm going to bed." He grumbled, and then ambled slowly up the stairs. All of them listened as Harry's bedroom door slammed close.

Dean whistled. "Awk-waaaaaard…" he sang in a high-pitched voice.

Fred and George laughed simultaneously. "Don't worry too much about Harry." George told Sam and Dean. "He's been rather moody lately. Like's to yell and throw rubbish around-"

"You get used to it." said Fred. "The little bugger- the source of so many problems, yet wouldn't trade him for the world 'cause there's never a dull moment…"

Ginny whirled toward him, her red hair whipped about her. "He's not the **source **of problems! Bad things just happen to him!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Yikes!" gulped Fred. "You better be careful, Ginerva- you're starting to sound like dear old Mum!"

She pointed her finger at him- always a bad sign- when the kitchen door opened. Professor Dumbledore and John Winchester walked out. Dumbledore looked more tired than Hermione had seen him in awhile. She'd been around him enough to know when he was worried, and for a fleeting moment, he definitely looked it. But then the good-natured, blue eyed, wise, old man was back, all troubles gone.

"How are you all?" he greeted quickly, smiling down on all his students. "Studying and preparing for another year I hope?"

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George all replied affirmatively, even though she knew the rest of them were doing nothing of the sort.

"Excellent, excellent." He praised, a mischievous twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles. "Well please give everyone my best- I've received an urgent call that cannot wait. I'll see you _all_ on September the first." He turned to John. "I really cannot thank you enough. I wish that there was someway to repay you and your fine boys…"

"Don't be ridiculous." John said. "Maybe you've forgotten what happened ten years ago, but I sure as hell haven't."

Dumbledore smiled again. He turned to Sam and Dean. "You boys don't know how much this means to all of us. We are truly in your debt."

Both Sam and Dean looked awkward and suddenly uncharacteristically shy. They said, nothing, but nodded their heads.

And at that Albus Dumbledore left. But it was not unnoticed by Hermione how Dumbledore had put an emphasis on "you _all_" when he spoke of September the first...

John looked more troubled once Dumbledore had gone. "Do you think I could talk to my boys alone for a second?" he asked them all in his deep gruff voice.

Hermione was reminded indefinitely of a drill sergeant. "Oh! Yes, of course." She pulled Ginny a good distance away from the Winchester men. Ron, Fred, and George disappeared into the other room with the rest of the Order.

"Wow." Ginny gasped. "They sure aren't bad on the eyes…"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, quietly. "Don't you think it's a bit more important _why_ they're here and _not_ what they look like?"

"Oh come on, Hermione. You can pretend to be all righteous and good, but I know you were thinking the exact same thing." She looked both cross and amused at the same time.

Hermione's cheeks reddened yet again. "Well… they **are** a lot different than boys around here…"

Ginny giggled. "I knew it. Dibs on Dean!" she said quickly.

Hermione frowned. "What? What about Harry?"

Ginny had always had a thing for Harry, ever since the two had first met. And while Hermione saw that it was good that the youngest Weasley was finally moving on because Harry had never returned her feelings, Hermione still wondered about Ginny's sudden change of heart.

"I've decided to listen to your advice Hermione. Remember? You told me to start seeing new people. Harry's never going to notice me-"

"I never said that last part!" Hermione butt in, bewildered.

"Okay so maybe I figured that last part out myself…" Ginny admitted with a sad smile. "But I **am** listening to what you said. And Dean definitely _is_ handsome…"

The two girls turned to the Winchester men, who they realized were in a heated, but low-voiced argument.

"Wow, they don't look too happy…" Ginny observed, as Sam and Dean gestured wildly at their father.

"Dad!" Dean exclaimed loudly, his chiseled jaw tight with tension. "You can't just-"

"You're staying." John Winchester boomed, abruptly. "That's an order." The older larger man put up the collar on his leather jacket and squirmed uncomfortably. "You boys take care of yourselves." He said softly, and with a touch of affection, but his boys stared hard into space beyond him. "Understand?"

Dean looked furious, but muttered a "Yes, sir."

Sam was silent.

John turned to him. "Sammy?"

Sam stared up at his father. They were almost the same height, but John still had him beat. Mutinously, he choked, "Yes… _sir_."

John nodded once. Clapped both Dean and Sam on the back, and then turned away. He caught Hermione and Ginny peeking in on him, smiled politely and inclined his head, then, turned back to his boys. "Keep in touch. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He grinned. The door closed behind him.

Hermione knew that John Winchester, the experienced demon hunter was gone for good. She knew in her gut and by Sam and Dean's faces that they were on their own.

All that stood between Harry and Hell, were the Winchester boys. Hermione had never been so afraid.

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I felt like giving a girls point of view. Don't worry, the boys POV is coming back real soon...

Like? Dislike? Lemme know? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had been let down by his father before. Hell- Dad let him down pretty much everyday. It was usually by accident, a fluke mistake. But he never let his boys down like this. He'd never intentionally abandoned his boys. He'd never plotted it out, step by step what he would do to escape his sons and a hunt he'd promised an old friend and an entire group of people _he_ would do.

Dean had never felt so lost and out of place. He'd always had his father and his little brother to have his back. He'd never admit it, but he loved them both more than anything in the world. He knew pain- but right now something inside him hurt so badly. The disappointment was eating him up.

Dread welled in him immediately after Dad had pulled him and Sam away from the Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny. He knew by the expression on John's face that something was wrong.

John sighed tremendously. "Boys, I know I said this case was extremely important- and it is."

_Uh oh_- Dean did not like where this was going…

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but'?" Sam interjected, voicing Dean's opinion.

John looked at him sternly. "_But_, it turns out this **isn't** our demon."

Dean felt a swoosh of relief. It was nothing to worry about after all.

"And?" Sam pressed.

"Quit bitchin' at me, boy." John barked to his youngest.

Dean flinched; ready to butt it. He hated it when they fought.

"Truth is, a trail just picked up that's almost definitely our demon. The problem is- it's back in Montana." His father sounded guilty, but Dean couldn't see why.

"So?" he asked. "How is there a problem? Let's just get our asses over there and hunt down that sonnuva-bitch." Montana was basically home. Well, it was home as long as he had his Impala, his arsenal in its trunk, and his Dad and Sammy riding shot-gun and back seat. 'Home' was familiar and not necessarily safe, but hey, it was one for two.

The expression of guilt didn't leave John's face. "I promised Dumbledore we'd hunt down the demon that's after the Potter kid. After everything that man's done for our family we are not about to let him down."

"What are you trying to say, Dad?" said Sam. "That you're gonna leave us here and you're gonna go back to the States to hunt Old Yellow Eyes?" Sam laughed at what he thought was his own joke.

But it wasn't funny in the least. The truth rarely is.

Dean saw the expression in his father's eyes. That's when that hurt came.

"Oh hell no!" He exclaimed to his dad. "You're not- Dad you can't be serious-?"

Sammy started arguing in his hushed yell. "_Dad, Dean and I have never hunted a demon by ourselves before_!" he put a hand to his forehead, and scrunched up his eyes. "We've always had at least you or Uncle Bobby to back us up, and this is a really serious case."

Dean used his disappointment as anger. "Dad, you promised that Dumbledore guy WE would stay and hunt this demon. _**We**_- as in me, Sammy, _and_ **you**." Truthfully Dean had no idea what Dumbledore had done for the Winchesters, but he would say anything to convince his father to stay.

John said nothing. He stared at both of them like they had been silent and obedient. "Dumbledore's already bought everything you guys'll need; weapons, clothes- the whole-nine-yards. My flight leaves in an hour. I gotta get going."

"Dad!" Dean burst, clenching his jaw, trying not to break something in his frustration. "You can't just-"

"You're staying. That's an order."

Dean knew the argument was over. He could tell himself over and over again that he wasn't Daddy's little soldier, but he himself that was a lie. What John Winchester said was law for Dean.

His father looked uncomfortable. He looked as though he might want to embrace them, but John hadn't shown his boy's real affection since Sam was a little kid. Instead he said, "You boys take care of yourselves."- which was practically a kiss. Never one to get caught in a 'chick-flick moment', John added a demanding, "Understand?"

Immediately Dean answered. "Yes sir." There it was again. The perfect robotic soldier. He hated himself for it.

But Sam had free will. He looked angry and only affirmed when John asked again. To their surprise, John gave in and clapped both Sam and Dean for a nanosecond on the back. Dean heard him say something about keeping in touch and, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Dean didn't see him leave. Instead he looked away, like he did when he was seven and had to hold the big boy gun and stay home with Sammy while Daddy went out for a hunt. He'd look away and pretend his Dad had never left. Then he didn't feel so alone.

But Dean was grown up now. And he and Sammy were alone again.

Sam stirred him from his reverie. "Dude, what're we gonna do?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know!" he exclaimed. "But I'm not gonna stand around here moping about it. We can't let these people know that we've never been on a demon hunt on our own. We gotta be calm. Smooth. Like me." He had his game face on. No amount of disappointment and hurt was going to make snappy sarcastic Dean go away.

Hermione and Ginny approached them cautiously. "Is everything all right?" Hermione asked. Maybe they'd been eavesdropping the entire time..?

Dean shoved his hands in his coat pocket. "Yeah everything's cool. Just a little family argument. Nothing to worry about." He gave both girls his cockiest smile. He was pleased to see they both blushed. Despite his anger he could get used to it around here…

The greasy black haired man with the hooked nose came from one of the surrounding rooms. He wore all black and had pale oily skin. The guy seriously needed a hair-wash. Or a tanning bed. Better yet- _both_.

He sneered at them with black eyes. "Did the Headmaster leave?" he asked, snottily. Dean already wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yes, he did- a few minutes ago." Hermione explained, looking a bit frightened. "But before you go after him, Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you about the potion Felix Felicis? It was mentioned in the holiday reading, but I was wondering if-?"

The Professor looked annoyed. "Miss Granger, even if I had time for your incessant nagging, I still would not answer your purposeless question. No one likes a show off."

Hermione backed down, looking visibly hurt.

Dean whirled on the older man, putting a hand on his chest before he could walk away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Professor Greasy." He glared, eye-level with the Professor. "That was uncalled for. Is that any way to treat a young lady? You should apologize."

Dean saw a startle in the Professor's eyes, like he'd seen a ghost. "What did you say?"

Dean leaned in closer. "What are you deaf _and_ ugly? Apologize to Hermione."

Hermione took a step closer to Dean. "Please stop! It's really alright…"

Dean backed off then, only because he saw that Mrs. Weasley and Sirius Black were staring in on them. _God, did everybody eavesdrop around here?_ Mrs. Weasley looked worried, but Sirius Black was beaming like a little kid.

Dean shoved the Professor away. Before he scurried away and left Dean yelled to him, "I'll be seein' you, Greasy!"

Sam winced. "Dude?"

Dean shrugged. Okay, so that was a bit uncalled for…

Hermione stared up at Dean. He noticed her eyes were a very pretty brown up close, and her lips were full and wide. "You really didn't have to do that, Dean."

"Sure he did!" Sirius Black strolled over, looking younger and happier than before. "I think I had the wrong impression of you our first time meeting, Dean. It is Dean, right?" He slapped Dean on the back in a friendly way.

Dean saw Sam's eyebrows raise a little.

"I've despised good old Professor Snape since my school days. It's refreshing to find someone who loathes him as much as I do and isn't afraid to throw his rubbish back in his face." Sirius stared at Dean like an old friend. "Let's get these boys some of that tea. Or perhaps you two Americans like coffee better, eh?"

Dean grinned. He could really use some caffeine after all this excitement. "It's like you're reading my mind, man."

As they walked with the others into the sitting room, Sam leaned into Dean.

"What's with the Macho-Man attitude, Dean?" Sam whispered, smiling heartily. "'Is that any way to treat a young lady'?" he echoed, in a very bad impression of Dean's voice. "'You should apologize-'"

Dean punched his little brother in the arm and frowned, and hoping Sam didn't sense his embarrassment. "Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk." Said Sam automatically, rubbing his arm where a bruise was surely forming.

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Severus Snape stood outside the magical door to Grimmuald Place for a minute. He knew it was dangerous and wrong to loiter, a Muggle or a Death Eater could easily be watching him. But his small heart was thumping hard. His spidery hands were sweating, like they used to back at Hogwarts when he would be attacked and bullied by the self-proclaimed Marauders.

He wondered if Black could see it too- the stance, the cockiness, the grin, the arrogance… Dean Winchester looked nothing like Snape's hated enemy, but his mannerisms, his attitude- it was all there.

Dean had even basically acted out one of Snape's worst memories.

Decades ago an arrogant boy ordered him to "Apologize to Evans" and only moments before a different arrogant boy had demanded him to, "Apologize to Hermione". Dean had even called him "Greasy". He might just as well have called him "Snivellus". It seemed impossible, but the similarities, in personality and attitude, were all there.

Dean Winchester was a living breathing James Potter.

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I'm not too choked up about giving Snape a point of view in this story, but I needed to convey how Dean reminded Sirius and Snape of a friend and a hated rival, James, which is why Sirius and Dean are able to become friends, and furthers Dean and Snape's spiteful relationship. I appreciate comments and critcisms. Just make sure if you're gonna bash me you sound somewhat intelligent. :) It's no fun arguing with an idiot... mehehe.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry felt like a fool again. He couldn't understand why he was feeling so angry all the time. He didn't mean to take it out on others, but he carried a constant frustration with him. It had ebbed after he was cleared from his hearing, but he was sure of his troubles now- Dumbledore _was_ avoiding him.

He went back downstairs, feeling isolated in his room, and into the sitting room where the majority of the inhabitants of Grimmuald Place were chatting. Fred and George were in a corner of the room with Ron, discussing something quietly, which was very unlike them, and Lupin was dozing on the sofa, his tea still grasped in his hands.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, happily, from the far side of the room. "We were just talking about you."

He realized she didn't mean they were saying anything bad about him, just the opposite. And he smiled, determined not to let his bad mood due to Dumbledore rub off on everyone else.

He settled onto the floor next to Ginny, who was quietly reading some sort of magazine.

"I was just telling Sam here a bit about you." Mrs. Weasley told him. It was then Harry realized Sam was in the room. The youngest Winchester seemed so much older than himself; it was easy for Harry to mistake Sam as a random member of the Order.

Sam seemed genuinely interested. "Mrs. Weasley was explaining that you're talented at… what was it..? Oh right- Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry shrugged, not sure if it would be sheepish to deny it.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry." Mrs. Weasley said, affectionately. "He's so modest. He's also an excellent flier."

Sam's eyebrows raised and he broke out in a grin. "Flier? Like how Superman flies?"

Harry laughed. "That'd be interesting," he shook his head, good-naturedly. "Nah, we use broomsticks."

Sam snapped his fingers. "Of course, why didn't I think of that? I've never… _met_ a witch, or wizard rather, that actually flew on a broomstick."

"Really?" questioned Mrs. Weasley. "How odd!"

"So it's common then?" Sam was still smiling, like he really couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"Yeah, really common and really popular. If we weren't trapped in here we could go outside and try out my Firebolt." Harry said, staring longingly out the window.

Sam brightened even more. "Really- I could try flying sometime?"

Harry could see how young the boy was now. His eyes got big and bright at the mention of having fun. He supposed the Winchester's job had aged Sam quite a few years, but underneath it all, he was just a regular kid Harry's age.

"Absolutely," Harry promised. He had known Sam for only a few moments but he thought Sam could be a good friend. He wondered for a moment if his likeability was an act, because he knew Sam and his brother had to protect Harry, but Sam seemed like the real deal.

Dean walked into the room with Sirius, they were both laughing like old friends.

"Maybe Dean would like to try out flying as well?" Harry asked Sam.

Sam looked skeptical. "Uh, yeah, sure, maybe he would."

Dean sat on the sofa next to his brother and Sirius sat on a high-backed chair by Harry. Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed on the older brother. Harry figured this was as good a time as any to apologize for his previous actions.

"Listen," Harry addressed Sam and Dean. "I'm sorry I was rude before, it's just- a little different this year. I'm still working things out-"

Dean waved him off and closed his eyes. "Dude, it's cool. Trust me, compared to some of the people we work with you're saint-like."

Even Mrs. Weasley, who obviously wasn't fond of Dean, cracked a smile.

"Molly?" a voice called from the other room. "Where are you?"

"In here, Arthur!" Molly called back, a little quieter for fear of waking Mrs. Black's portrait.

Mr. Weasley walked in the room. A chorus of "Hi Dad" 's rang from the Weasley children. Arthur, red headed and balding, kissed his wife on the cheek before observing the Winchester brothers.

"Hello," he began, smiling kindly. "Samuel and Dean, I presume?"

"I'm Dean," the older brother shook Mr. Weasley's hand.

"I'm Sam," Harry wondered how often people got Sam's name wrong.

"It's wonderful to meet you both; I just wish it were under better circumstances." Mr. Weasley grimaced a little. "I've just received an urgent letter from Dumbledore, and he asked me to share it with you."

Immediately Mrs. Weasley snapped her fingers at her children and Harry. "You heard your father- Order of the Phoenix information. All of you, out, out, out!" She bustled to her feet and began to usher them out, when Mr. Weasley spoke up again.

"Molly, I hate to contradict you," he said, and he sounded it. "But this actually concerns them- and they will find out anyway…"

Mrs. Weasley looked put out, but Harry definitely wasn't going anywhere. He got up and sat in a chair close to Sirius, who grabbed Harry's shoulder and smiled affectionately. Sirius always seemed happy whenever Harry defied Mrs. Weasley.

Fred, George, and Ginny plopped on the floor, and Ron sat in a stiff wooden chair beside Harry and Sirius.

Mr. Weasley looked around. "Where's Hermione?"

"Upstairs, studying… where else would she be?" piped up Ginny. She got up. "I'll go get her." She hurried up the stairs and disappeared from view.

Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He was perfectly confident and had Harry saw that he commanded the room's attention with his every movement. "What's this all about?" he asked.

Mr. Weasley unfastened his cloak, and ruffled his graying red hair just as Hermione and Ginny returned. They sat down on the floor without a word.

"Dumbledore's original plan was to have you- Sam and Dean- follow Harry indiscreetly, under an invisibility cloak or charmed, while he's at school, and your father was going to pose as a temporary teacher or official position at Hogwarts." Mr. Weasley scowled. "However, that plan failed, seeing as he's gone now…"

Dean sat up straighter. "Our dad had to leave." he rapt out. "He would be here if he could." His face looked unsure and he had a trace of hurt in his hazel eyes. Harry was uncertain as to whether or not the older boy believed his own words.

"I meant no offense to your father, Dean." Mr. Weasley assured. "I just meant to convey..." he searched for his words more carefully. "How it _complicates_ things a bit…"

"We'll do anything we can to help." Sam asserted. His words were unquestionable. He didn't speak with as much authority as his brother, but he was principled.

Mr. Weasley dipped his head in appreciation. "Thank you both. But what Professor Dumbledore is asking you to do is very dangerous… and that's not even including the part where you both are supposed to find and hunt this demon…"

"Just spit it out, Arthur," urged Sirius from beside Harry.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "He wants Sam and Dean to enroll at Hogwarts."

Harry was confused. Dumbledore was willing to make these boys go through a pointless year of Hogwarts, just to protect, he, Harry, but the headmaster wouldn't even stay in the same room as him for thirty seconds.

Dean rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sure why the hell not?" he said automatically. "What's the big deal?"

"Dean, I don't know-" Sam replied. "I mean, a school for witches and wizards? Not exactly our forte…"

"I don't like it." Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Not at _all_. It's too dangerous for the boys _and_ the children."

Sam looked puzzled. "How is it more dangerous for the children?"

"Better yet, how is it more dangerous for us?" Dean laughed. "I mean, I'm not exactly afraid of a bunch of little brats waving wooden sticks around."

Nobody else thought it was funny.

"What you have to understand, Dean," Mr. Weasley tone was urgent. "Is that although children of the magical world don't look dangerous, but they can do things with their powers that you could never even dream of." He inclined his head toward Ginny. "Take my daughter for example- she looks like any other Muggle girl, but she could kill you with just an incantation and a wave of her wand. Which she never would." He added hurriedly, when she crossed her arms over her chest. "And you would be surrounded by hundreds of them, and older witches and wizards too. You're totally defenseless when it comes to magic."

Dean smirked. "That sounds like it could be trouble… but I dunno, Mr. Weasley maybe we're not _totally_ defenseless." He reached into his boot and pulled out two necklaces. They both had a leather string and a circular silver pendant at the end, with a strange marking etched into it. "Charms," Dean explained and he handed one to his brother. "Made by a hoodoo witch down in Louisiana somewhere a couple years ago. Apparently she carved them to keep away the magic of another nasty witch. As long as we're wearing them none of your magic can affect us."

Sam slipped his over his neck. "Where'd you get these?" he asked in awe.

Dean put his on as well, and Harry noticed that Dean also wore another necklace with a strange charm on it. "Dad gave 'em to me before we left the airport." He grumbled. "I guess he knew from the start that he'd be leaving us here…"

The silence that followed was awkward. Harry looked to Ron and Hermione and they too looked out of place.

Dean cleared his throat. "So it's settled then? Sammy and I are going to Hogfarts?"

The next couple of hours were chaotic. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Lupin, who someone had finally woken up, spent most the rest of the day teaching him and Sam about the wizarding world. Of course, Dean asked stupid and pointless questions half the time, making Sirius roar with laughter. He was really starting to like that guy. He was the sort of, best-friend-that-isn't-Sam, Dean had never had.

Arthur Weasley was okay in Dean's book. He was the type of father figure you'd expect to see in some sort of Brady Bunch episode or something- minus the whole magical part of course…

Lupin was cool too. He was quiet, but knowledgeable, and just a little twitchy whenever either Dean or Sam addressed him. He was obviously afraid of them.

_Mrs_. Weasley on the other hand was practically spiteful to Dean, but fawned over Sam like he was a puppy or something. She even mentioned cutting the poor kid's hair for him, "You're just like my son, Bill," she told him, affectionately. "Such a good looking boy, but the hair is far too long-" Sam, of course, had politely declined. But what the heck had Dean done to her? Except for that bit about hunting witches, he hadn't given Mrs. Weasley any reason to dislike him.

Lupin stayed for dinner that night, and Mrs. Weasley prepared a small meal for everyone. It was the most delicious food Dean could ever remember eating, and he certainly had his fill. It was way better than any mushy airport hotdog or stale gas station burrito.

Before Dean knew it, the windows had grown dark, and everyone was stumbling upstairs to their beds.

Dean wasn't used to a 'bedtime' per say, so he was a little defiant as he and Sam followed Mr. Weasley upstairs to a small bedroom.

"I know it's a bit cramped, but it's the only room that's open right now," he explained, a bit embarrassed. He flicked his wand and the lights came on. There were two beds- thank God- and even though they were only Double-sized, and the room was dark and a bit dreary, it sure beat some of the motel rooms they'd spent the night in…

"It's awesome." Sam said automatically. "Thank you Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I should be the one thanking _you_. I don't know what we would do if it weren't for your help." He looked thoughtful. "You seem like such nice boys, but I'm going to have to ask you not to wander about the house at night. It's not that we don't trust you- well, maybe it is a little bit-" he added as an afterthought. "But I just want your word that no harm will come to anyone while you're staying here…"

Dean understood his distrust. These people had been through a lot. "We promise. We're not the bad guys."

Sam nodded.

"I don't think you are." Mr. Weasley added. "But I've been wrong before." He walked to the door and almost left, turned around like he wanted to ask something, but seemed to think better of it. Instead he said, "Good night, boys."

Dean raised a hand. "'Night Mr. W."

Sam and Dean were alone.

"Well," Dean muttered after a few long moments of silence. "This was definitely the weirdest day of my life. And I've experienced _a lot_ of weird."

Sam sat on the bed farthest from the door, knowing Dean's preference. "You're telling me…" he fumbled a little nervously with his new magic pendant. "I can barely wrap my head around any of this. I wish Dad were… never mind…" Sam's eyelids fluttered, and Dean knew that his little brother argued with their dad constantly, but deep down in his heart, he wished, like, Dean, that John was there with them..

"You're just tired, dude. Get some sleep, we'll think about this in the morning." He told Sam, who nodded and lay down on the mattress which squeaked under his large skinny frame. The kid was exhausted, and was asleep within minutes with his day clothes still on.

Dean smiled fondly at his already drooling brother and draped a blanket over his lanky body.

As tired as Sam was, Dean was wide awake. He was in the other bed across from Sam, with only his jeans on. He couldn't fall asleep. He was thinking about how unbelievable the entire day was, the hurt of his father's abandonment, and how utterly weaponless he and his brother were. He hadn't been able to find any firearms, or kitchen knives, to slip under his pillow at night- he expected Mrs. Weasley had probably hid them. All the Winchester boys had was salt, and although, on occasion, it could repel some low-level witches, Dean had seen Mrs. Weasley sprinkling generous amounts of salt into the dinner soup. And salt would be no defense against this demon they were hunting…

He'd promised Mr. Weasley he wouldn't wander around at night, but if he never found out it wouldn't make any difference. Besides, Dean was restless with unease because he knew nothing about the house. What if he and his brother were attacked? He needed to know his way around this dump.

He could slip on his boots and be just as sneaky, but Dean left them behind, going barefoot, pulled on an old white sleeveless shirt, and slipped out the bedroom door.

Dean spent the next twenty minutes creeping around Grimmuald Place. He thought he saw the inhuman round eyes again at one point, peeking around the corner at him, but when he snuck over to investigate whatever he had seen, it was gone.

There was a rather large door at the end of the hall that he had not ventured into yet. Light seeped from underneath the crevice, and he peered in. Bushy haired, but pretty, Hermione sat in a chair, reading by light that came from her wand. Around her, moldy looking books were stacked in bookshelves. The room must have been a library.

He opened the door slowly, and it creaked, allowing his presence to be known.

"Who's there?" Hermione gasped, wide-eyed and fearful as she clutched her open book to her chest.

Dean stuck half of his body through the door. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you."

She sighed, relieved. "Dean, I'm sorry. It's okay, you can come in." she adjusted her legs so they weren't cramped up beneath her.

Dean entered, and Hermione seemed to think better of her response. "Actually, I was just leaving." she announced. Dean knew she was lying, she was just intimidated.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Hermione, I was just exploring." he rubbed his bristly hair with his hand. "Besides, you obviously are a smart girl. You know these hoodoo pendants of ours aren't gonna do much good against certain magical spells…" he pointed at the book she was reading which he had seen was titled, _Hoodoo: It's Strengths and Weaknesses_. "Sam and I aren't exactly impervious to your magic."

She blushed a little. "One can never be too cautious. I apologize for trying to find out how you and your brother could be overpowered, and I hate to admit it, but I'm willing to hurt the both of you to protect everyone else."

Dean smirked, this girl had spunk. "I can't blame you, Hermione," he admitted, with a growing fascination. "In fact, I'll quit bothering you so you can read more. I'd be doing the exact same thing in your situation." He shut the door with a, "Good night, Hermione," and left her, somewhat surprised in the library.

He smiled to himself, back in his room. Hermione was intelligent, had spirit, and although she wasn't Dean's usual type, she was quite pretty.

Suddenly extremely tired, he drifted off to sleep, but not before putting a hand under his pillow, wrapped around the sharp silver dagger he had found in one of the many drawers he had searched through. Thanks to whatever messed up wizards had lived here before, he and Sam weren't _totally_ weaponless…

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So that's Chapter 8. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get to the overall plot- my writing comes in spurts and breaks because of having to share this dang computer with others, but I promise we're getting to it. Reviews are magnificent- even the bad kind! They make me write faster!


	9. Chapter 9

A sudden light hit Sam's eyelids, and he squinted in the dusty morning sun. Dean's silhouette cast a shadow over him.

"Rise and shine, Samantha!" Dean greeted, and threw a pillow at Sam, who just barely caught it before it hit him in the face.

Sam groaned, and put the pillow over his head. "Ugh, Dean, what time is it?"

"About five-ish. I've been up since 'bout four, I'm so not used to this whole 'peaceful' sleep thing. I keep waiting for some ghost or somethin' to pop out and scare me."

Sam frowned at his surroundings for a moment, not entirely sure where he was. Then he remembered- London, with the witches and wizards…

Dean looked up at Sam while pulling on his boots. "Seriously dude, get up and take a shower. You smell rank."

Ten minutes later, Sam was fully clean and showered. Dean had shoved him out of the door and Sam had forgotten to bring a spare change of clothes with him in the bathroom. But he figured it was early enough that not many people would be awake, so he'd be safe enough to walk down the hall in just his towel.

He was wrong.

He was halfway down the corridor when he rounded a corner and walked smack dab into Ginny.

She stopped, her jaw dropped, and she gaped for a long moment. "Erm… good morning, Sam…" she said shaking herself out of her staring.

Sam felt the heat rise to his face, and he hitched his towel higher over his still wet body. He realized how close the two of them still were. He could easily reach his hand out and touch her face. "Ginny, I'm so sorry- I left my change of clothes back in my room-"

"I don't mind." Ginny said quickly. "I-I mean-" she stammered, thinking over what she had said. "I just meant that I'm- that I don't care." she toyed with her red hair nervously, and tried to look determinedly into Sam's eyes, but he noticed with embarrassment that occasionally her gaze shifted downward.

"Uh, I guess I'll go put some clothes on." he tried to smile, but it was more of an awkward grimace.

She nodded and said, "Yeah, yeah okay…"

Quickly, he moved around her and hurried down to his room. This took the cake for the most embarrassing moment of his life. It was even worse than the time that Dean had given him the 'Birds and the Bees' talk back when he was ten.

_Why did it have to be Ginny?_ He thought with growing dread. He wouldn't deny it to himself any longer- he thought she was very pretty and he was definitely attracted to her. He wished for a brief moment that he had a body like Dean's, then maybe she would be impressed…

He tried to not to let his humiliation show when he went back inside his and Dean's bedroom. Sam silently prayed to whatever God out there that Ginny would tell no one.

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"He was completely naked! He was only wearing a towel!" Ginny exclaimed to a wide-eyed Hermione. Ginny had practically sprinted back to her and Hermione's room, to tell her of her awkward, but completely worth the while, experience.

Hermione shook her head after a long moment. "Wait- I thought you fancied Dean?"

Ginny fell onto Hermione's bed beside her, and grinned. It was true. Initially she liked Dean, but the younger Winchester was definitely more her type. Truth be told, Sam reminded her of an older, more muscular Harry. "I fancy them both, I suppose." she declared proudly.

Ginny noticed Hermione had a little crease between her eyes, like she was upset. "You go from boy to boy faster than any friend I have, Gin,"

Ginny rolled her eyes, a bit annoyed. "It's not like I'm _dating _all of them or anything! I just said that they're both tremendously good looking_!" Leave it to Hermione to spoil a perfectly wonderful chick-flick moment_… she thought bitterly.

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At the breakfast table that morning, Sam avoided all eye-contact with Ginny, which was difficult, seeing as they sat right across from each other. He stared instead into his bowl of cinnamon oatmeal. Dean noticed his strange behavior and nudged him curiously.

"You sick, dude?" his brother asked, green eyes alight with the worry he always had over Sam.

He pushed Dean away. "I'm fine. What are you talking about?" He felt Ginny and Hermione's eyes on him as well. _Please don't let me blush; PLEASE don't let me blush…_

Dean observed him suspiciously for a moment, but then continued eating his cereal and chatting animatedly about Hogwarts with Fred and George.

"Flitwick's a real nice guy…" Fred said. "He teaches Charms. He's a bit short, but he never minds when we play a little joke on him every now and then-"

"Now McGonagall on the other hand- she teaches Transfiguration- she's a nice lady _on occasion_, but she certainly does NOT appreciate our pranks…"

"Oh yeah- remember that time back in first year when we put that niffler in her desk drawer? And it ended up destroying the whole classroom?"

George sighed contentedly, reminiscing. "Yes I do my brother, those were the days…"

"And Snape's a real _arse_, but you already met him-"

"Fred Weasley! Watch your language!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked loudly, from the other room.

"Merlin!" George exclaimed, though quietly. "It's like the woman has Extendable Ears of her own…"

Dean chuckled as Harry walked into the kitchen. He sat down on Sam's other side.

"Did someone mention, Snape?" he asked darkly, as he scooped himself some oatmeal.

"Sure did, Potter," Fred said. "Anything you'd like to add about our _dear_ potions master?"

"Nah," said Harry, smiling. "I'd rather _not_ talk about things that make me **sick** before I eat my breakfast…" That got Fred, George, Dean, and Ginny guffawing with laughter. Hermione giggled as well, and made room on the table for Ron, who walked in with a serious case of bed-head and still in his too-small pajamas

"What was Snape's deal anyway?" asked Sam. "I mean- he was mean to Hermione for no reason. He's allowed to treat his students like that?"

A few of them chuckled to themselves, and Harry shook his head, grinning.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, that was actually probably Professor Snape at his most polite."

"You should see how he treats Harry." Ron put in. Sam noticed that his was the first thing Ron had said in front of Sam and Dean since yesterday afternoon.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Snape's not too fond of me. He wasn't fond of my father either. I hate the ugly bugger right back."

"Let's just say, our dear little Snape-ity-wape-ity is a bit evil." George finished.

Dean leaned forward interested. "Sounds like a fun guy… evil, huh? Like 'evil' as an over exaggerated expression, or 'evil' as in the type of guy that could be _our_ guy? Like could he be demonically possessed...?"

Everyone looked uncomfortable for a long moment.

Sam shifted in his seat. "Uh, Dean, I think they just meant evil as an expression…"

Dean shot him an angry glance. "You never know. We've gotta start thinking about this kind of thing _now_, Sam. Somebody that can get close to Harry **is **or **is** **going** to be possessed by some evil mo' fo' real soon. _Everyone's_ a suspect."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and spoke up first. "Dean's right. We do have to start thinking more seriously about this. Something evil is out there working for Voldemort, and it's going to hurt people."

Dean smirked at Sam triumphantly.

"Fine," Sam said. "So where do we start?"

Fifteen minutes later, only Sam, Harry, and Hermione sat at the kitchen table. The Weasley children had been called away by their mother to pack their belongings for Hogwarts, but Sam had a gnawing feeling that Mrs. Weasley actually wanted to tell her children something in secret.

"But anyone can be a suspect, Harry," Hermione interjected. "We can't rule people out."

"I don't care. I'm not going to just stop trusting Hagrid, or Lupin, or Sirius, or any of you guys." Harry replied fiercely. "You're the closest thing I have to family."

Sam looked to Dean, who nodded in understanding. Sam too knew the feeling of having very few to trust…

"I get it, Harry, I really do. Believe me- more than you know." Sam said. "But for now, just be aware of everyone around you. You probably won't even notice any differences in some one possessed, if it's a really strong demon it will be able to control the person completely and have access to all of his or her memories. But if you _do_ notice anything strange you have to tell me and Dean right away."

"We don't mean to go all 'parental-unit' on you, it's just that this job is complicated enough as it is without you getting killed by some crazy sonuvabitch demon on our watch." Dean gave the younger boy a confident smile. "Like that would ever happen but-"

He was cut short when an owl literally shattered through the glass of the basement door, and landed with a huge milky crash in Dean's soggy bowl of cereal.

They all leaped to their feet, avoiding the massive white splash, except for Dean, who was too shocked to move and got a face full of it. He sat stock still, eyes tightly closed, his face a tight grimace, with milk dripping down from his hairline, to his chest.

They all stared silently until Dean suddenly bellowed, "Mrs. Weasley!!! There's a giant dying bird in my Cheerios!!!"

Sam, Harry, and Hermione burst out laughing. Sam fell to his knees and water leaked from his eyes as he pounded in hysterics on the floor. He had never seen anything more ridiculous in his life.

Dean slowly lifted his hands and wiped the milk from his eyes, and licked whatever he could off his lips. "Bite me," he grumbled, seeing Sam on the floor.

"I'm… hahahaha- sorry, Dean it's just- hahahahaha-" Sam broke out in fresh laughter.

Harry and Hermione, still laughing as well, sat back in their seats. Sam finally got up too and sat next to his brother.

Dean poked the soaked owl cautiously. "Is the damn thing dead?" he asked.

As a response, the owl leaped from the bowl, flapping its wings and splattering more milk on Dean. The older Winchester sputtered and spat, and attempted to wave the bird away. "Get outta here you rat with wings!" he roared.

Hermione giggled. "That's Errol- the Weasley's owl. I think he's not leaving because he has a letter for you."

Sam frowned. "A letter?"

"Please don't tell me you have ugly-ass birds deliver your mail for you…" Dean groaned.

Harry chuckled. "Afraid so." he said.

The owl called Errol stuck out its right leg at Dean, who reluctantly removed the bedraggled envelope that was tied to it, muttering something about, "Freakin' birds…"

"Who'd be writing to you?" Sam asked his brother curiously.

"Who else?" Dean replied, holding up the letter. Although the ink had run a little, there was no mistaking the untidy scrawl that he'd been deciphering in a journal for half of his young life: _**Dad**_.

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This chapter and all the chapters to come are dedicated to

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fireball012

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ArmagonAuthor

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all of your reviews, the good and the bad, keep me writing this fic. Thank you guys so so much!


	10. Chapter 10

Dean ripped open the letter quickly. Sam had moved closer to Dean, eagerly, but the older boy had taken no notice.

Dean would never tell Sam, but he was worried. He was worried about being cooped up with these wizards, weaponless; worried about going to a magical school; and on top of it all, he was worried about his father. He knew he shouldn't be, that he should be angry at Dad, like Sam was, but when he thought about Dad leaving them, there was only an icy cold hurt in his chest- and more worry. It had only been a day since he'd left, and Dean knew his father was a grown man, a ex-marine, nonetheless, but Dean liked to be there to back the older man up, in case he ever got hurt, which in Dean's defense, happened a lot.

As he observed John's hand writing, a warm hope shot through him. Maybe Dad was alright, maybe all of Dean's worry and pain was for nothing, _maybe Dad was coming back_…

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Boys,_

_I'm not coming back. This isn't how I planned this hunt, but maybe it's for your own good. You're gonna have to start jobs on your own sooner or later._

_Dumbledore told me that using owls to send letters isn't safe anymore, don't really see how it ever was in the first place, but he did something magically to this bird so no one could intercept it. This is a one time thing- no more letters after this- so listen the hell up, and burn this paper when you're finished reading it. **I'm** on **our **demon's ass. I'm gonna get him this time._

_The demon you're hunting is one bad S.O.B. I just got off the phone with Bobby and he says England is filled with signs of demonic activity- electrical storms, animal mutilations, people missing- so keep your eyes open. This is your first demon hunt since that girl in Ohio five years ago, so remember- salt, holy water, and Latin exorcisms are your best bet._

_Sammy- You better have memorized that exorcism I taught you or you and your brother are screwed to hell. Dean- look after your brother and find that goddamn demon. When you get to that wizard school, Dumbledore will have everything you need to find and kill this thing. Don't screw it up. And don't let anything happen to the Potter kid._

_Trust Dumbledore only. Everyone else is open for possession._

_Dad_

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean felt it stab through him again- the hurt. Only this time, it was more intensified. _Dad wasn't coming back_.

He crumpled the letter into his fist as he slammed his hand onto the wooden table. Harry, Hermione, and Sam jumped. He left the letter there for Sam to read and paced around the kitchen like a caged animal. _Dad wasn't coming back_. Dean and Sam had never been on a demon hunt on their own. And now they were supposed to do all this by themselves? Their dad expected too freaking much from them- and although Dean was hurting and was nervous to be on such an important hunt without his father, he'd do exactly what Dad said anyway.

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Sam finished their father's letter. He wasn't surprised, but he could see that Dean was. Dad was obsessed with the demon that killed his Mary; he wouldn't abandon a potential lead on the monster just to help his sons- even if their lives depended on it.

Had Dean _really_ thought that John would come back to help them? His whole life Sam had thought his older brother was _always right_ about _everything_. He'd always thought that Dean was better looking, stronger, and smarter- but now Sam was seriously questioning Dean's intelligence. Maybe Dean _wasn't_ perfect after all…

Whatever momentary mental breakdown Dean had been having ended. His face was smooth and carefree yet again. "Well, I guess Dad's not coming back." he announced to Harry and Hermione, who he seemed to just remember existed. "So it looks like we're taking care of this damned demon on our own, huh Sammy?"

Sam looked into his older brother's face, a cool untroubled mask. How did Dean push his emotions away like that? Sam cleared his throat. He realized the three of them were still staring at him, waiting for a response. "Guess so." he threw out, unsure of how to handle the situation.

"Is your father alright?" Hermione asked, tentatively.

When Dean didn't answer, Sam explained. "I'm sure he's fine. He got called away to another hunt, but he trusts we can take care of this hunt on our own." _Lie_. Dad didn't trust them on their own- it was just convenient for him to have his sons stay while he went away to pursue his revenge. It saddened Sam how easily untrue things poured from his mouth now. Lying was part of the job, and over the years he'd gotten good at it. Dean was better, and once upon a time Sam thought that meant Dean was a better person because of that, but now…

"Harry?" a Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the upstairs. "Harry, are you down there, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. So are Hermione, Sam and Dean." Harry called back.

"Oh," she didn't sound too happy. "Well then I suppose… I suppose you should all come up here then."

Sam looked to Harry, who shrugged. "Let's go find out."

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Going up the stairs, Harry heard the sound of hurried and hushed voices and the clinking sounds of metal and the scrape of leather.

Dean, obviously sensing trouble, put a finger to his lips, pushed around Harry, and peeked through the door first. His muscles slackened from their stiff tension, and he nodded that the coast was clear.

They stepped out into the open area to find Sirius, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley hurriedly placing various objects into two chests that they had apparently opened.

"Sam! Dean," Mr. Weasley exclaimed, looking up from the group's task. The two other adults also glanced up, guiltily.

"What's up?" Dean asked, frowning at the two opened boxes.

The adults looked to one another sheepishly. "Well, these boxes came addressed to you," Mr. Weasley admitted. "And we want to trust you- we really do- but we can't take any chances when it comes to safety."

Harry glanced at Sam, who looked torn between anger, and amusement. "So you opened our mail?"

Sirius gave an abashed grin. "Well… we like you boys well enough, but we're still suspicious of you. Then we saw all this odd rubbish and we had to take a closer look." Harry saw with surprise and horror as his godfather carelessly extended his arm and shook a gun in his hands. "What in the name of Merlin is this?"

Sam and Dean immediately went into protective mode, fluidly, they shoved Harry and Hermione behind them, ignored the "Hey, wait guys-" that came from Harry, and put out their hands in defense.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, Sirius," Sam said calmly.

Dean's approach was harsher. "Put the gun down before we make you, man," Dean stated, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Sirius looked alarmed by their sudden reaction. "What?" he gasped. "This thing's a weapon?" repulsed, he dropped it to the ground. Harry heard a light metallic 'click' and then a huge 'BANG' went off.

The noise made everyone cringe.

Someone darted in front of him as he heard Mrs. Weasley yelp, Sirius grunt, and Mrs. Black's portrait begin to scream.

When Harry looked up again, Sam was using his long arms and body to shield Harry and Hermione, and Dean had rolled to the ground to gather the gun. He opened a compartment and looked inside. He sighed. "Just rock salt." He announced to Sam, who visibly relaxed. "Still, what kind of a freakin' _idiot_ mails a loaded pistol?"

Mr. Weasley got up from his crouch, and to his feet, and magically closed the curtains on Mrs. Black's portrait. The vase behind Sirius' head had exploded from being shot by the pellets of salt, and he used his wand to repair it.

Mr. Weasley turned back around, amusement in his eyes. "So that's a gun!" he went to Dean. "I've seen them in pictures but I've never seen one up close. Are they the same sort of weapon that _Please-men_ use?"

Whatever reaction Dean had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking several times.

Harry felt his face redden despite himself. "I-I think Mr. Weasley means, 'police men', Dean."

Dean's face hardened, and then looked puzzled. He asked no one in particular, "Huh. Sirius almost shoots someone, and you're asking questions like nothing's happened?" He decided not to answer Mr. Weasley and instead unloaded the rounds in the pistol, put the gun in the waistband of his jeans, and threw white bullets back into the box. He pulled a hand down his anxious face. "Let's not do that again, ok?" he said, patiently to the adults.

Sam approached the other box. He rummaged through it, and smiled at some various objects. "Looks like we'll have everything we need, Dean," Sam told his brother. "Look- a sawed-off, just like mine back home, a Glock in the model I like, a machete, shotguns, holy water, a whole bunch of amulets- what's in yours?"

Dean stared at his brother incredulously. "What's with you? Do you think it's Christmas or somethin'?" He shook his head, but pulled a shiny silver gun out of the pile, and grinned at it. It looked like it belonged in his hands. "A .45," he inspected it, and tried out it weight. "Not as good as mine, but pretty good." That gun went in a belt loop in his jeans.

Sirius looked back and forth from brother to brother. "No hard feelings, boys?" he asked cautiously.

The Winchester brothers looked happier and more at ease around the weapons, and they both waved Sirius off. "No hard feelings, man," "Don't worry about it,".

Mrs. Weasley had her hand to her chest. "Why would Dumbledore send you boys, _weapons_?" she gasped.

Dean looked over at her, holding two long knives, happily. "You guys have your magic sticks; we have our guns and sharp toys…"

"What are these?" Sam said suddenly, holding up a long black robe.

Dean laughed loudly. "Dude, somebody got you a _dress_?!"

"That's the Hogwarts uniform." Hermione told them.

Dean and Sam stared hard at her. "What?" they both gaped, simultaneously.

Harry chuckled as well. "Yeah, the Hogwarts uniform is black robes."

Dean shook his head. "_Oh hell no_," he reached into his box and pulled out robes his size. "I'd rather take on _fifty _demons than be seen in a freakin' _robe_!"

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It was the day before he, Sam, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children were off to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Weasley had gone to a place called Diagon Alley to pick up the school supplies everyone needed, and had prepared a big farewell dinner, which was also a congratulatory dinner for Hermione and Ron, because they had both been selected to be school prefects.

The basement had been decorated with banners that said "CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE- NEW PREFECTS" and Mrs. Weasley was laying full dishes out on the wooden table.

Almost the whole gang from the first day was there- Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin, the Weasley family, Harry, Sirius, and Hermione- everyone except Dumbledore and the butt-hole called Snape.

As Dean and Sam went down the stairs, Dean noticed that pink-haired Tonks fumbled with a stack of ceramic plates, and Dean reached out and caught her just before the plates toppled from her hands. "Thank you, Dean!" she gasped breathlessly. "I would have Banished them to the table, but I wasn't sure I could make them re-appear without chipping them… I'm kind of a klutz…"

Dean had no idea what Banished meant, but he got the gist that it was something to do with magic. He nodded like he understood anyway. "'It's no problem." he assured her.

She sighed, relieved, as she placed down the plates. "So, are you excited about going to Hogwarts?"

Dean shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Doesn't make a difference to me. Do you go there?- 'cause it'll make a difference then…"

Dean knew she liked him when she laughed. "You're adorable, Dean. No I graduated about… six years ago?"

He raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. Tonks looked about his age, but she had to be at least twenty-three or twenty-four. So he confessed his surprise.

She grinned again. "I can look however I want, Dean," she explained. Suddenly, Tonks' face began to change. He watched, halfway between horror and fascination as she turned into somebody who looked very much like Ginny.

"You're a shape-shifter?" he gasped, wishing he had checked his new weapons for silver bullets- even though he knew he wouldn't be able to kill her. But she couldn't have been a shape-shifter like the ones he'd seen. She transformed quickly, gracefully, extremely unlike the normal shifters that tore their skin off.

"We magical folk prefer the term, 'Metamorphamagus'. But yes, I guess you could say I'm a shape-shifter."

"Wow." Dean said, scratching his head. "I've actually never met a chick shape- I mean Metamorpha-whatever, before… so you can change your body into whatever you want it to look like?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She smirked, and slowly she morphed into a taller woman with curves in all of Dean's favorite places. Long, golden, wavy locks tumbled down to her mid-drift and her eyes were melted into a deep blue. "Or whatever _you_ want it to look like…" she whispered.

Dean's eyes widened and he had to gulp before he could choke out, "Kinky…"

Tonks giggled again, and transformed back into her normal pink, spiky haired self- though Dean noticed with satisfaction, that she might have left a little more curviness from the blonde's body on her. When she walked away, Dean noticed it more- and he grinned. Tonks may have been a klutz, but she was a fun girl…

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Sam quickly slinked away from the flirting Dean and Tonks, and made his way over toward Ron, who was fiddling gloomily with his new Prefect badge.

"Hey," Sam greeted, sitting beside the youngest Weasley boy. Ron looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgement. _Well, so much for stimulating conversation_… thought Sam.

"So because you're a prefect, does that mean you're at the top of your class?" Sam asked, hoping for a response.

Ron frowned. "Well, no, not really…" he admitted. "I mean, Hermione's definitely at the top of our class, but I thought…"

"Thought what?" Sam pressed. Ron had definitely not been as open and welcoming as the rest of the inhabitants of Grimmuald Place. Maybe the boy would finally open up to him.

"It's nothing. It's just-" Ron lowered his voice. "Harry's my best mate, we're close- like brothers. And I don't know why I'm telling you this and if you tell anyone I swear-"

"I'm pretty practiced at keeping secrets," Sam admitted.

Ron seemed satisfied with his answer. "It's just- I've always been jealous of him. He's on the Quidditch team, he's famous, and he's definitely smarter. He's also Dumbledore's favorite student- and yet _I_ got chosen to be Prefect. How is that possible?"

Sam was surprised. He and Ron were living similar scenarios. "You think it's a fluke? You think you getting picked for Prefect was a mistake?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess…"

Sam shook his head. "I can't say I know much about this particular instance, but I know for sure that you're being too hard on yourself. Dumbledore obviously saw something in you that Harry doesn't have. I don't wanna get all emotional on you or anything," he said laughing. "But you're not Harry, and you don't have to be like him and you're not gonna be treated like him. And maybe in some cases that's a good thing."

Sam and Ron continued to talk for the rest of the evening. They both had a lot in common. And Sam finally decided that night that maybe it was time to follow his own advice.

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Dean had to pee. He'd drank one too many of these amazing drinks called 'Butterbeers', and although they contained no _real _beer, they were addicting just the same; which is why he had to pee.

He hurried up the stairs and almost turned to the bathroom when he heard an odd familiar sound. Somebody was crying.

Dean stopped short and turned. "Hello?" he called in a loud whisper. Nobody answered, and the crying continued. Dean pulled the .45 from his jeans and with a quick expertise loaded it with salt rounds. He tiptoed toward the sound and peeked in through the door where the pitiful noise came from.

Mrs. Weasley was backed up against the dark wall, tears streaming down her red grief-stricken face. Her wand was pointed at a body on the ground- it was her red-headed son, Ron.

Dean burst through the door, sending old paint-chips flying, and aimed the gun at her. _She killed her son, she killed her son. She killed her son?_

The woman yelped in surprise at Dean.

"What the hell did you do?" he bellowed at her.

She sniffed and let out another choked sob. "Oh, _oh_," she gasped, covering her mouth.

There was a loud resounding CRACK, which was not unlike a gunshot, and Dean looked down at the body again, which had changed into a different, older boy.

Mrs. Weasley dropped her wand and fell to her knees. "Bill!" she cried.

CRACK. The body changed into a dead Mr. Weasley. CRACK. The body was dead Ginny. CRACK. The body was dead Harry.

Two and two clicked in Dean's head: this was a supernatural creature he was familiar with- it was a Boggart…

"Mrs. Weasley, stand back!" Dean ordered.

Mrs. Weasley obeyed, and Dean stepped up to face the monster. He knew it would turn into his worst fear, and he was well aware of what that fear was, but when it appeared he wasn't ready for it.

CRACK. The long lanky form of Sammy lay sprawled on his back, collapsed on the ground. He was bleeding from the chest, he was choking, gasping, dying- "Dean…" the dying Sam said, lifting a bloodied hand toward his brother. "_Dean this is _all your_ fault_…"

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. He'd seen this fear played out in his head a thousand times in nightmares, but that didn't make it any easier.

Boggart-Sam's eyes flashed a demonic black. "**Sammy's dead!**" it jeered.** "And it's all your fault**!" it laughed manically, a harsh, cold, evil laugh. That's when Dean shot it three times with his gun. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

The salt rounds left a layer of white powder hovering in the air. When it finally cleared, the Boggart was gone.

Dean let out a deep breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and turned to see Mrs. Weasley gaping at him.

Dean heard furious pounding on the stairs and then Lupin, Moody, Sirius and Harry ran through the open door. "What's going on here?" Lupin panted.

"It's ok," Dean explained, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"It was the Boggart, Remus." She explained. "The one Mad-Eye told me was up here. I thought I could handle it on my own, b-but, b-but…"

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley began sobbing again, and she chose to cry on the nearest shoulder- which just so happened to be Dean's. She buried her tear-stained face in his arm, and he stood there, shell-shocked, not sure as to what to do.

"I see them dead all time!" she moaned. "Even when I dream!"

Dean patted her awkwardly on the back. Women usually didn't cry on him…

"And then, then Dean came," Mrs. Weasley's sob's were slowing down. "And he took on the Boggart himself. Without a wand…" she realized she was making Dean uncomfortable, moved away, and then looked up at the oldest Winchester with admiration. "I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you- thank you, Dean,"

"It's no problem, Mrs. Weasley," he told her, trying to smile, but he, like her was still shaken.

She knew his worst fear now, and he knewshe could see the hurt lingering in his eyes. "How about you and I make a cup of tea? Or coffee, rather?" she suggested, beaming up and him while wiping the wet from her eyes.

Dean nodded. "I'd like that."

For the rest of the night, Dean was doted on by Mrs. Weasley, like a son.

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I'm sorry this chapter took so long- I had a lot of artwork that needed to be dont. I actually didn't finish the art work- but writing this is more fun.

I've actually been thinking about the Tonks scene and Mrs. Weasley/Boggart scene since the very begining of this fic- _I _quite like how it turned out- but I'd **really** like to know what **you** guys think.

Questions? Comments? _Suggestions_? I'm all ears. Just press the review button! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Wow, Um, please don't kill me... I know I haven't updated in a long time and I'm REALLY sorry! I've had finals all this week and I've been prepping for softball which is starting in a few days. I finally had time to write this today because I had a snow day... but I swear, I'll start updating daily soon. I'd love to hear what you have to say, 'cause I've really missed you guys and this story. Lemme know if you have suggestions, criticsms, or comments- I'm all ears!!!

Love- RayeB

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Sam had been restless into the early hours of the morning; he was _really_ going back to school. Albeit- it was a magical wizarding school, but school was school. He was excited and nervous and- dare he say it- _happy_. Sure, he and his brother were on another hunt to exorcise a demon, but until that time came, Sam felt like he was at the beginning of some really great adventure.

Deciding to give up on attempting sleep, he had showered, shaved, packed, and dressed before Dean had even gotten up. Sam heard some hurried noises from downstairs and figured it was time his brother got up. "Dean," he called. "Wake up." He was ridiculous to think just a simple command would awaken him. He went to his bedside and poked Dean in the arm- which he instantly regretted.

Still half asleep, Dean grabbed Sam's long arm, and used Sam's own unbalanced momentum against him to flip him up in the air and over and around Dean, so that he landed on the floor on the other side of the bed. A gleaming silver dagger was immediately pressed against Sam's exposed jaw line.

"Man, you are SLOW in the morning," Dean observed hoarsely, putting away the weapon and extended a hand to his younger panting brother.

Sam gasped, "What the hell was that for?!" and batted Dean's hand away, getting up on his own, feeling awkward and defeated.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, "You should know better than to poke an amazing specimen such as myself in the morning." Dean smirked and lay back down on his bed. "Besides, you obviously need the practice. You're getting sloppy…"

"Very funny," Sam grumbled. "You're a riot. Now will you PLEASE get up so we don't make everybody else late?"

"I AM up…" Dean lied, face muffled in his fluffy pillow.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, Dean. Whatever, I tried" He left Dean in the bedroom and was abruptly met by Ginny in the hallway. His face went red as he remembered the previous morning when they had met here.

"Morning, Sam," she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Maybe she had forgotten about the towel incident…

"I see you've decided to wear clothes this morning." She observed, smiling playfully.

Or not.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I figured showing up naked on my first day at Hogwarts wouldn't make the _greatest_ impression…"

Ginny laughed as they started down the stairs. "You never know. You'd probably start a new trend…"

Sam opened his mouth to make a snappy retort, when he heard two voices from behind him bellow, "LOOK OUT!!!"

A whole life of instinct kicked Sam's body into defense mode. He didn't even need to see the two huge trunks flying at him and Ginny as they somehow sped down the stairs. He grabbed Ginny by her waist and quickly pinned her against the stairway wall, pressing his long body up against her to shield her from harms way. The big brown trunks blew past them, skimming the back of Sam's head. It was only when he heard the 'THUMP THUMP' of the two trunks landing at the bottom, did he realize he was on top of Ginny, his arms on either side of her, and his face only half an inch away from her lips. Her eyes were locked onto his. They were both breathing heavily, hearts racing from the sudden rush of adrenaline, and their closeness.

Coming to his senses, Sam pulled himself from her (with some reluctance) and turned to the top of the stairwell.

The twins Fred and George sprinted toward the stairs. "Merlin! Are you two all right?" Fred exclaimed.

"We swear we didn't mean to, we didn't know anyone was walking down!" George admitted, looking extremely apologetic.

"We're fine I think," Sam explained, glancing over at Ginny, who was red faced and seemed like she was lost in a daze. She shook herself slightly, and glared up at her brothers, hands on her hips.

"What the hell was that?!" she shrieked, her red hair like an angry fire framing her face. "Are you trying to get me and Sam killed?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Gin," George said. "If we were trying to kill you, it'd be in a way far more exciting than this-"

"That was brilliant, though, Sam," Fred laughed. "Saving yourself _and_ the damsel in distress in only a moment's time- amazing, mate. You've got to teach us-"

Ginny huffed, "I am NOT a damsel in distress!"

Mrs. Weasley came up from the kitchen. "What's all the commotion about?" she called up, softly.

Ginny grinned devilishly up at Fred and George, whose eyes were pleading with her. "Nothing, Mum," she said quickly, and Fred and George relaxed momentarily. "Just Fred and George bewitching their trunks to murder me and Sam…"

The twins recoiled early, ready for their mother's explosion. "WHAT?!" Mrs. Weasley shrilled.

Sam flinched as well, as Mrs. Black's portrait and Mrs. Weasley began to scream at the top of their lungs.

"-COULD HAVE DONE THEM BOTH A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS-"

"-FILTY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-"

"-MAGIC IS A PRIVILLEGE NOT A RIGHT-"

"-MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF FILTH-"

Ginny continued to go down the stairs, without a care in the world. "Want some breakfast, Sam?" she asked, smiling angelically.

Sam raised his eyebrows, and smiled back. _This girl was a handful_…

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Dean was dressed, showered, and ready to go only a few minutes after Sam had left the room. He was even half-way through cleaning their arsenal when Sam returned.

"How's Ginny?" Dean asked Sam, beaming mischievously and proudly from behind his freshly polished machete. He had rushed out of his room earlier to see Sam save Ginny from being squashed by the twin's trunks in the niche of time.

Sam's cheeks burned. "Shut up," he muttered, shoving a few things in his knapsack.

"Aw, c'mon, man. It's nothing to get all upset about. It's about freakin' time you got some action!" Dean felt bad for Sam occasionally. It seemed that wherever they went, Dean always ended up getting the girl while Sam watched from the sidelines. He figured it was about time Sam got his game on.

Sam froze and stared at Dean incredulously. "Dean- I'm _fifteen_…"

Dean looked back at his brother for a long moment, and then scratched his neck absentmindedly, figuring it best to _not_ tell Sam when he had lost _his _virginity…

"I didn't exactly mean it like THAT, Sammy," Dean murmured, recovering, "But if that's what you have on your mind…"

Sam threw a rumpled up pair of smelly socks at Dean's head, which Dean swatted at with his machete. "Dude- I'm holding a dangerous weapon here, and you're throwing socks at me?"

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" they heard Mrs. Weasley yell from downstairs.

Dean smiled at Sam, trying to hide his bubbling anxiety about the journey ahead. They both gathered their stuff in a hurry and hoisted their heavy trunks on their shoulders. "Ladies first," said Dean to Sam, gesturing for him to exit the room first.

Five minutes later, they were all assembled in the foyer. Everyone was bunched together in separate groups. Dean and Sam, had of course, been assigned Harry's group, along with Mrs. Weasley and a very shaggy black dog which sat obediently beside them both.

Dean saw Sam's eyes brightened at the sight of the mutt, and extended a hand to pat it on the head. Dean knew his brother had always wanted a dog, and that was one of the many privileges the Winchesters could never obtain. The dog wagged its tail happily as Sam pet it, and stared up over at Dean, in a very un-dog-like-way wearing a very un-dog-like smile…

"What's his name?" Sam asked, Harry, now stroking the dog's shaggy ears.

Harry glanced down at it, and smirked. "Uh… it's Padfoot…"

Dean frowned at the dog, in a bemused sort of way. Its eyes looked so human…

"Where's Sirius?" Dean asked immediately, looking amongst everyone.

Everyone seemed to chuckle, like they shared some funny little secret.

"What?" Dean asked, "What's so funny?"

Fred glanced over at the black dog and then back at Dean pointedly. "Let's just say, Sirius isn't himself today…"

Dean knew when to take a hint. He looked from Fred to the dog, to Harry to Sam to the dog. "You mean that..?"

In response, 'Padfoot' the dog barked and bounded over to Dean, and stuck out his bear-like paw toward him. Dean chuckled, took the paw in his hand and shook it. "What are you, Sirius? A Black Dog or Shape-shifter or something..?" Dean asked the transformed wizard in amazement.

"Sirius is an Animagus," Harry answered, laughing at the dog as it bounded around the large group of people, happily.

Dean noticed Sam looking awkwardly at the dog. "Sorry I… um… pet you and everything…" he told Sirius the dog. Dean had to shove a knuckle in his mouth to keep himself from laughing; he imagined over and over again what it would have looked like if Sam was scratching the human Sirius behind the ears…

"Enough fooling around," growled Moody, shuffling over to Dean. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at him.

Dean's hand went to his jean waistband where his gun was concealed. "Whoa what did I do?" he asked the old man, hurriedly.

"Do you have a weapon shoved down your pants?!" Moody exclaimed. "I thought you two were experts! Anyone foolish enough to not even practice elementary weapon safety should not-"

"Mad-Eye," Lupin warned, from the other side of the room.

Moody sighed. "Alright, alright, I'm just saying…" He observed Dean with both of his eyes, frowning. "I'm not going to hurt you, boy, just change you…"

_Boy_..? thought Dean, scowling. But he said nothing, because Moody's tone reminded him of his father.

"What do you mean 'change him'?" asked Hermione. Dean faintly noticed that her normally bushy hair was tamer today, and she might have been wearing a little makeup.

"How old are you, boy?" Moody asked Dean, ignoring Hermione's curiosity.

"Nineteen." Dean stated simply, hand still on the nub of his .45.

Moody grunted. "You look older. More like early twenties."

Dean swelled with pride, until he saw that everyone else was frowning. "What?" he asked Sam.

"Hogwarts only goes until its seventh year, Dean. Like a senior in high school." Sam explained. "No one's going to believe you're a student."

"There's a spell we could cast to make you look younger." Moody continued.

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "How much younger is 'younger'?" he questioned reluctantly.

"Well the most obvious solution would be to use a potion to magically turn you fifteen or sixteen again-" Moody stated quickly.

Dean screamed, "HELL NO!" just as Sam burst out in hysterical laughter.

Moody's eyes bored into Dean's hard green glare. "Of course Dumbledore knew from your father that you'd be sorely set against that. I don't see _why_ you _would_ be- it's the most obvious way to stay close to and look after, Potter-"

Dean did not waver. "I will NOT be the same age as my brother." He rumbled in a soft fierce voice, silencing Sam's chuckles.

"How do you plan on protecting him then? You'd be separated all the time." countered Moody. "Are your good looks more important than your job to protect everyone?"

"That's not fair, Mad-Eye," Harry cautioned. "Dean doesn't have to stay with us at all times-"

"Can you not comprehend the seriousness of the situation?" Moody asked Harry, roughly, making Sirius growl and bear his teeth at the old grizzled wizard. "Your life is at stake here, Potter. This demonic business is nothing _we're _familiar with. Do you really think Dumbledore would have hired these Winchesters if he had another choice? The Headmaster doesn't even know how to deal with a threat this massive-"

"That's enough, Alastor." Mrs. Weasley said. "There must be a way to compromise this situation."

Dean was glad he had made amends with Mrs. Weasley.

Moody frowned in almost a defeated sort of way, and Dean relaxed, taking his hand off his gun. Then without warning, Moody turned and flicked his wand at Dean, who didn't have time to move as the strange magical jet of white light hit him.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, rushing toward his brother, but Mad-Eye threw out his arm to hold him back. "Wait a moment, boy." He said, with a hint of triumph.

Dean wasn't sure what was happening. His scalp itched tremendously, and as he put a hand up to feel his head, he noticed with horror that the stubble on his jaw was gone. "Wha-?" he gasped, and sprinted upstairs to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, facing the mirror, he shouted every curse he knew. He definitely wasn't fifteen like Sam, but he was obviously sixteen or seventeen. Dean had always looked older than he was, so he looked mature for a sixteen year old, but way too young to be nineteen… His hair was longer, not as long as Sam's, but it had a similar shaggy shape to it, and there was not a trace of hair on his face, giving him a more boyish look. His jaw line was still sharp, but not as hard. With horror, he gave his body a once over, and was relieved to see that Mad-Eye Moody had not changed any part of his body further south than his face. It was the principle of the matter though- Moody had changed him without his consent, and Dean was royally _pissed_.

As he stared in the mirror, he heard Sam's long strides bounding up the stairs behind him, but he took little notice. "Dean?" Sam asked, cautiously, as he closed the bathroom door. "Are you okay...?"

Dean put both hands on his face as he examined himself. _No, no, no, no_… "Am I okay?!" he gasped, furiously. "That bastard made me a dumbass kid again!" He turned to face Sam, who stared at him in shock.

"Déjà vu'…" Sam whispered.

"Very funny, Sam!" Dean shouted. He was losing it. He needed to calm down…

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it as a joke…" He scratched his head, thoughtfully. "Maybe this job will be easier this way, Dean," Sam said softly, trying to reason with his now, only slightly, older brother.

Dean put his hands on either side of the sink, and leaned over it. "Did you know he was going to change me?" Dean asked, coldly, knowing if Sam had any part in this that he'd **end** him…

"No way!" Sam said without hesitation. "No one but Mad-Eye knew. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin are yelling at him now. Only he won't change you back until the demon is exorcised…"

"Of course he won't," Dean yelped, letting out another stream of vulgar curses.

There was a knock on the door, and they heard Hermione ask, "Is everything alright?" in a hesitant, soft voice.

Dean massaged his now young face in his hands, hating everything about the situation. For some reason, he really didn't want anybody, especially Hermione to see him younger. He sighed tremendously, "We'll be right out…" he didn't want to leave the bathroom, because he knew everyone wanted a good long look at him, but they were already running late.

He followed Sam out of the bathroom, not wanting to meet Hermione's eyes. But when he did, he saw with some amusement, that she could not take her eyes off of him.

"Shall we, er, go then?" she gulped, hurrying down the flight of stairs.

Maybe being younger would have its perks…

Dean went down to the foyer, embarrassed by his reaction and by his face, but everyone insisted that they were extremely sorry and that the change wasn't that drastic. He knew they were lying, but it made him feel a tiny bit better. He noticed that everyone's luggage, along with Moody, had disappeared. But Dean promised himself that he'd get the deformed old bastard back somehow…

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Sam knew Dean was miserable, and as they walked outside, and Dean's hair flopped uncharacteristically in the September breeze, he could see his brother felt awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin- which was definitely a first. Sam thought his brother was still better looking, but he knew Dean didn't feel that way, and pitied him for a moment.

Tonks was waiting at a street lamp, and eyed Dean curiously as they approached. "What happened to you?" she asked him, good-naturedly. Today she had transformed into a shorter brunette but still had her same facial features.

"Freakin' Moody happened to me…" Dean growled, kicking a nearby rock angrily, which made him seem even younger. Sirius the dog appeared at Dean's side, and looked up at Dean sadly.

"Poor thing," Tonks sighed, ruffling Dean's hair. "That's a shame, you're much too young for me now, Dean," she teased.

Mrs. Weasley frowned at the girl, "That's enough, Nymphadora." she scolded, seeing Dean's deepening frown.

Dean suddenly smiled for the first time in awhile. "Nymphadora???" he gasped, laughingly.

It was Tonks turn to scowl. "Fine, let's go." she announced, stalking ahead.

Sirius chased after her happily, and Sam and Harry laughed as the dog nipped playfully at her heels.

The walk to Kings Cross took twenty minutes. It was uneventful, and Sam enjoyed the mindless walk.

However when they got to the train station, he realized he had no idea which platform they were actually boarding.

"Nine and three-quarters," Harry explained to him softly.

"That's not possible-" Sam began, but Harry cut him off with a smile. "You'll see." He promised, pointing to Tonks, who had stopped up ahead to lean against a column between platforms nine and ten. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

"Awesome." Dean stated. "Do we get to do that too?"

Mrs. Weasley beamed at him. "Go now." She told them, glancing around.

Harry smiled broadly, he was obviously happy to be going back to school. "Race you," he goaded.

Sam knew that even though Dean was in a crappy mood, he'd never back down from a challenge. "You're on." he declared. The three of them, and Sirius, ran simultaneously, and Sam's long legs allowed him to quickly out distance Dean and leave Harry way behind in the dust. Sirius's shaggy dog-form ran straight through the barrier.

Realizing that he was not a wizard, and Platform 9 and ¾ could potentially have no effect on him, he abruptly slowed down just before hitting the rock, but Dean didn't slow, and slammed into him from behind, shoving him toward the bricks. Sam flinched, awaiting impact, but instead kept flying forward, appearing on the other side of the column, where Tonks and Sirius were waiting.

"Wotcher, Sam," she greeted winking. Behind her a huge, gleaming, scarlet train spouted white puffs of steam. Sam's insides wriggled with excitement- _they were really going to Hogwarts._

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So? What'd you think? Reviews are amazing- please give your opinion!!!!


	12. Chapter 12

The computer gods hate my guts. My laptop hasn't worked for the past two weeks which is why I haven't updated. I'm really sorry- pray to the computer lords for me so I can write more! Gah!

Okay, this next chapter gets towards the plot of the story.

-RayeB

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They were really going to Hogwarts. _Why_ did they have to go to Hogwarts..?

Dean had sworn to himself that he was done with school. Senior year back in high school had been rough for him, and he graduated early just to escape the required last year of prison some lunatic considered 'education'. He distinctly remembered every new classroom he had walked into in his years at school- the unnatural burning of the fluorescent lights, the obnoxiously kind introductions by bland teachers, and the blank faces of his peers staring up at him from rows of desks. He'd never tell anyone, but he'd take on a room full of werewolves rather than face a new classroom. He had been free from school for about a year and a half, and now suddenly here he was, back in the body of a sixteen year old, about to face another first-day.

He hated his Dad right now.

But disliking John was Sam's job; _Dean_ was supposed to be the reliable obedient son; but it looking over at his younger brother, Dean realized that today their roles were reversed. Sam was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. There was a big goofy grin on his maturing face, dimples wide and unwavering. His huge brown eyes were sparkling with anticipation and if Dean hadn't had a pit of dread in his stomach, he might have felt better about the whole situation, just because Sam deserved this moment of happiness.

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley swooped down upon Dean. Her warm arms were suddenly wrapped around him, locked in a hug. Dean stood statue-still; flabbergasted for one long moment, before returning the hug, though rather half-heartedly. She then pulled away from him and choked, "Thank you for everything, Dean," before turning away from him with tears in her eyes and a smile on her round face, to hug Sam and the others.

Sam's gaze was fixated on the scarlet steam engine and all the others their age boarding it excitedly. The kid wanted to be normal so bad. Well- not that wizarding school was normal- but Dean knew that deep down Sam wanted to be innocent like other teenagers, and Dean knew without a doubt that he wanted that for Sam too.

So Dean got on the train.

He watched in odd fascination as the figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Sirius in his dog form, disappeared around the corner as the Hogwarts Express sped away. He'd only been with them for two days, but he felt like he was leaving a place where he'd just begun to feel safe. His gut told him things would never be the same again.

And Dean's gut was never wrong.

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Compartments lined the trains long corridor, and kids pushed passed and around Sam and the others, occasionally squealing with delight as they reunited with old friends. Sam noticed with a bit of embarrassment, that everyone's eyes, especially the girls, lingered on Sam and Dean, and Dean didn't hesitate to eye the girl's right back, appraisingly.

Sam rolled his eyes, and leaned toward his brother. "Dude," he whispered, observing his brother's obvious stares. "Two words: _jail bait_."

Dean flashed him his cockiest smirk. "Not any more, Sammy. I'm sixteen, remember?" he peered over his shoulder to watch as slim smiling girl, in a short grey skirt, bounced away from him. "_That_ is totally legal…" Dean patted Sam twice on the back, grinned mischievously, then continued forward, following Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry up the hallway.

"Shall we find a compartment, then?" Harry was asking Ron and Hermione.

The pair suddenly looked awkward.

"We're-well- Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione explained, apologetically, glancing from Sam, to Dean, to Harry.

"Oh," said Harry, looking a little put out. "Right. Fine."

"We don't want to you know," Ron piped up. "It's not like we're-"

"No, I understand, its okay, really," Harry stated, though Sam could tell that it wasn't. "I suppose it'll give me more time to explain the wizarding world to Sam and Dean."

"Sounds like oodles of fun," Dean chided. "Explain this to me first: if wizards are so freakin' _magical_, can't you just teleport to places? Why the _hell_ do we need to ride a train?"

The awkward mood was officially broken as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny began to laugh. Sam smiled; Dean had an ability to always be able to break a strained silence, or end, as he called it, a "chick-flick moment".

"You mean Apparation, Dean," Harry began, starting to walk away with the oldest Winchester at his side.

"Appar-_what_?" Dean exclaimed, before the two turned the corner.

Hermione and Ron both said, "See you later," then went in the opposite direction toward the prefect carriage, leaving Sam and Ginny to hurry after Dean and Harry.

When they finally found a compartment, Sam saw that it was already occupied by two other people; a boy with a round face sitting as far away as he could from a wide-eyed blonde girl.

The boy beamed brightly when he saw Harry. "Hia, Harry, Ginny!" He seemed relieved to find people he knew. It was obvious he was uncomfortable and awkward around the blonde girl. Sam could see why.

It wasn't because she was stunningly beautiful, it was the fact that the girl had her wooden wand shaft stuck behind her ear, messing up her waist-length hair, which gave her somewhat of a crazed look. Her eyes were huge and her eyebrows were so pale they were almost invisible. She was wearing a necklace of what looked like soda caps, and was carefully reading a magazine upside-down. Sam had been to a lot of schools, and seen a lot of odd people, but in the five minutes he was on the train, this girl definitely took the cake. Even Dean was staring at her as though she had four heads.

"Do either of you mind if we take these seats?" Ginny asked, mostly addressing the girl.

Neville quickly piped, "Not at all!" and the girl only nodded once.

Sam sat beside Harry and Dean, opposite the odd blonde girl. She stared at him, unabashed, and Sam purposely averted his own eyes.

"I don't know who you are." The girl announced to him in a singsong voice.

Sam felt his eyebrows disappear into his shaggy hair. "Oh, um, I'm Sam Winchester." He held out a hand for her to shake, but she just regarded it like it was something interesting.

Dean sniggered.

"Sam, this is Luna Lovegood." Ginny supplied quickly, and Sam put down his unshaken hand. "She's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

Sam didn't ask what a Ravenclaw was, but nodded at Luna and Ginny as though he did.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," the round faced boy said, turning to Sam with his own pudgy hand extended to shake, which Sam quickly grasped.

"Nice to meet you,"

"Dean Winchester," Dean announced, confidently shaking Neville's hand. Neville seemed in awe of Dean.

"And you're Harry Potter," Luna suddenly told Harry.

His green eyes squinted curiously from behind his glasses. "I know I am," he said.

They all chuckled lightly, and then Neville glanced somewhat pointedly from Harry to Sam to Dean.

Harry seemed to take the hint. "Oh, Sam and Dean just transferred from an American wizarding school this year. Your father's a good friend of Dumbledore's, right?"

Sam nodded, remembering the story Dumbledore had told them to memorize and be able to relay at all times. "They're old friends. Dean and I have only met him a few times, but Dad didn't want us at our old school this year for some reason, so here we are."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was a far stretch from the truth. Whatever it was, Sam was good at sounding completely genuine.

"Which school?" Neville questioned, politely. "My second cousin's friend went to a school in Washington State… was it that one?"

"Nah, we went to Salem Academy of Magic," lied Dean, without missing a beat.

For the next hour they exchanged pleasantries, getting up to date about their summers and Sam and Dean's 'past experiences' at Salem Academy of Magic. Luna Lovegood had long since disappeared behind her magazine again, but every now and then, Sam caught her, looking over the top of it to stare at him with her protuberant pale eyes.

When their compartment door slid open, Sam expected it to be Hermione and Ron, but instead there was a very pretty Asian girl with long, black, shiny hair in the doorway, smiling at all of them.

"Oh… hello, Harry," she said somewhat nervously. "Bad time?"

"Um… no. No- not at all." Harry muttered.

Sam noticed that Dean had sat up from his relaxed position to eye the newest visitor. "Aren't you gonna introduce us to your friend, Harry?" Dean asked, grinning cockily.

Harry looked extremely embarrassed. "Right. Uh, Dean, Sam- this is Cho Chang…"

Dean and Sam both stood up to shake her hand.

She seemed both intimidated by their size, and fascinated by them. "Um, nice to meet you both." She said hurriedly. Sam noticed that she had a slightly Scottish accent. "Well… just thought I'd say hello… 'bye then."

Cho closed the door, her face shining a bright pink, and went away.

Harry put a hand to his forehead and groaned miserably.

Dean patted him on the shoulder once, like he often did when Sam struck out with a girl.

Ron and Hermione did return about another hour later, and the conversation became less strained, and after Harry had treated them all to a purchase of a candy called Chocolate Frogs and strange cakes shaped like pumpkins.

Dean, unable to resist food before him, reached eagerly for a chocolate frog and tore off the wrapper. His eyes widened when the candy frog leaped from his hand.

"DUDE!" he exclaimed, "My frog's not dead yet!"

Hermione spent the next half hour explaining to Dean, how the chocolate was only under an enchantment and that it was never actually alive. Sam was interested in the explanation, but was more relieved that Neville and Luna had found Dean's reaction so hysterical, that they hadn't even questioned whether or not they had Chocolate Frogs in America.

The windows had grown darker, and the clouds greyer and Sam watched with some amusement as Neville's eyes stuttered closed, and soon after snores rose and fell from him mouth and nose. Even Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna were beginning to show the telltale signs of sleepiness. Sam and Dean on the other hand, were used to long car rides and days without sleep, so they were unfazed by the trip. That is- until Dean's jacket pocket started making familiar high-pitched noises.

Dean gasped, reached into the pocket, and pulled out a highly reacting EMF. The machine was going absolutely haywire, the dial on the reader moving back and forth faster than anytime they'd ever seen, lights flashing, the noise high, and unstopping.

"What the heck is that?" Ron asked hurriedly, glancing at Hermione and Harry, who bore similar expressions of worry.

Dean frowned, looking at Sam with a locked jaw. Sam should have known that Dean would be _stupid_ and _brilliant_ enough to sneak something as suspicious as an EMF through airport security, and was grateful for it.

Sam and Dean had grown up using different types of EMF readers to weed out haunted places where the supernatural thrived. But they had never seen one react like this.

**Something big was coming**.

…the EMF went completely crazy, shrieking it's last warning, and burnt out just as the compartment door slammed opened for a third time…

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Yeah a cliff-hanger. I hate them too.

I gotta know what you guys think... so let me know, please!


	13. Chapter 13

**Something big was coming**.

…the EMF went completely crazy, shrieking it's last warning, and burnt out just as the compartment door slammed opened for a third time…

Harry saw the hard expressions Sam and Dean had on their faces when the strange machine started making its high pitched noises, and he knew that something was wrong.

Neville was still napping, and Luna had put down her issue of The Quibbler, only looking mildly interested, though Ron and Hermione looked from Sam and Dean nervously.

Its red lights burned constant for a long moment, and it gave one more squeal, and crashed. Smoke fizzled from Dean's fingers, and at the same moment, he and Sam both turned to the compartment door as it flew wide open.

Harry didn't know what he expected to see. He was sure it had to be the demon the Winchester boys were looking for- otherwise they wouldn't have been so serious. But then again, he wasn't sure what a demon actually _looked_ like.

But he definitely didn't expect to see his long time nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, standing at the mouth of their door.

Sam and Dean both had their hands on their belts, and Harry wondered which sort of weapons they were concealing today. Though Malfoy probably deserved it, it could prove troublesome to explain if Sam or Dean shot him in the leg, so Harry whipped out his wand from his pocket, in case there was a need to intervene.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean barked, standing statue-still, ready and rearing to attack.

The smug arrogant look Malfoy bore quickly slid off his face. Compared to Sam and Dean, he looked like a frightened child. "I could ask you the same question." He retorted, but cautiously, almost as though he were speaking to an authority figure.

"Yeah, but you won't." Dean stated. "Not if you know what's good for you…"

Malfoy glanced to Crabbe and Goyle nervously, but his two goons seemed to be frozen solid, staring at the Winchester brothers, fear glazing their eyes.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Sam questioned, sternly, but not as viciously as Dean.

"That's Draco Malfoy," Hermione explained, anxiously. "The other two are Crabbe and Goyle."

"They're friends of yours?" asked Dean.

Harry laughed dryly. "Far from it." He said simply, eyeing Malfoy with as much contempt as he could muster; Malfoy of course, returned the favor.

Sam looked to Dean pointedly. They seemed to share an unspoken thought.

"So they _aren't_ friends of yours…"

Ron slouched in his seat. "That's what they said, mate," he retorted with impatience.

Dean ignored Ron's smarminess, and instead inclined his head toward Sam, which seemed to aggravate the younger Winchester, as though he had lost some sort of argument.

"Christo?" Sam asked Draco, who's blue eyes narrowed in confusion.

"No," Malfoy answered with suspicion. "_My name is__** Draco**_…"

Dean and Sam eyed Draco for a long moment, until Malfoy was red in the face. They appeared to be waiting for something to happen, but nothing out of the ordinary did.

Dean finally released his grip on whatever was on his belt, and Sam followed his lead. There was a collective sigh around the room- Harry had not even realized he'd been holding his breath.

"Well," Dean said, sighing. "This has been fun; but we really don't have time for douche-bags at the moment, so if you could just do us a favor and leave, that'd be great." He shot Malfoy a smile that didn't reach his green eyes, and Harry along with Ron, sniggered heartily.

Malfoy shot everyone but Sam and Dean a scathing look. Draco's eye's lingered longest on Harry. "Watch your back, Potter," he warned. "I'm a prefect this year, and I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"That sounded somewhat homosexual…" Dean pointed out and even Hermione giggled.

"Get out Malfoy," she demanded, still smiling, and Draco did, tomato red in the face.

Once the compartment was closed, Harry watched as Sam and Dean glanced to Neville who was remarkably still asleep, then to Luna, who gazed at the two Winchester brothers.

She tilted her blonde head at them. "Wherever did you find an EMF reader?" she asked.

Sam's eyes widened and Dean's mouth dropped agape.

"Wha-? How would you know about EMF?"

"My father doesn't think very highly of hunters, but I find you all to be lovely people." Luna stated, making Harry glance around the room nervously.

"Who said anything about us being hunters?" Sam questioned, but Luna just looked at him, and said nothing.

After that, there was no getting more information out of Luna. Harry had an idea that they even pulled a few of their detective tricks to see if Luna was actually the one possessed, but to no avail. She disappeared behind her issue of The Quibbler again, and said nothing else.

Hermione turned to Harry worriedly. "So I suppose there's no point trying to hide it from Luna any longer…" she observed.

"Fine, whatever," Ron said. "Then what in Merlin's name set off that beeping thing?"

"An EMF reader detects electromagnetic fields that ghosts and spirits and demons give off as energy." Sam explained. "So, when it beeped, it technically could have been any one of those things."

"Or it can be set off if we're by some sort of high electrical source." Dean countered. "But in all the times I've been hunting, I've never seen one _blow up_…"

Harry opened his mouth to suggest that maybe it was the fact that Dean had made his by hand and it had faulty wiring, but Hermione shook her head.

"No," she said brightly. "No I think that perhaps it wasn't anything demonic."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked her.

"Well electricity and batteries don't work at Hogwarts, do they?" she stated, pointing out the window, where Harry could see the Hogwarts castle swiftly appearing on the horizon. "Maybe it was just the magical energy in the air that set it off and broke it."

Harry looked to the Winchesters. "Is it possible?"

Sam shrugged. "There's no telling. We shouldn't rule anything out…"

It was at that that Neville finally opened his eyes. He yawned immensely. "Sorry everyone, what did I miss?"

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Everyone had left the compartment to put on their robes and gather their belongings, leaving Sam and Dean alone.

"Damn I really thought we had the sonuvabitch this time." Dean groaned, shrugging into the hand-me-down brown leather jacket that was John's not too long ago. Sam noticed that the sleeves of it looked longer than usual, due to the fact that Dean had de-aged. "Just once I'd like for the monster we're hunting down to just come find us." He grumbled.

"Dean, monsters find us all the time." Sam felt an annoyance growing in him. "I mean we get bombarded with all kinds of supernatural creatures that seek us out every day; and usually when they find us first, the hunt doesn't go that well."

Dean pursed his lips characteristically. "Yeah well, that's only because we go to where we know they are; where they're killing people- then we look for 'em. I just wanna get this job over with. I want it to be as simple as possible."

Sam shook his head. "Since when do you look for an easy way out in a fight?"

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, where Sam was pretty sure he fiddled with some sort of weapon. "It's not an easy way out, Sammy." He retorted. "It's cool that you've embraced this whole school thing, but I want to get home and help Dad out with the _real_ hunt."

Sam opened his mouth to point out the fact that they didn't actually _have_ a home. He wanted Dean to want to be happy about going to Hogwarts as well, but he knew his brother, so he didn't say anything.

Instead he cleared his throat. "We should probably change into our uniforms." He suggested.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and smirked wickedly. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," he placed a hand on either side of Sam's shoulders, and shook him slightly. "Not on your life, sweetheart." With another cheeky grin, Dean popped the collar of his jacket and left the compartment, leaving Sam to mentally wrestle whether or not to wear his uniform.

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Dean noted with a certain amount of satisfaction that he still had the power to influence his brother with Dean's own opinions. True- Sam came out of the compartment wearing the Hogwarts uniform dress pants and white collared shirt- but he held the long black robe and black tie at his side, rolled up in a tight ball. Dean also noticed that Sam cast a sidelong glance at him, as though trying to decipher his opinion.

Dean said nothing, and just slouched against the wall of the train, watching as students ran by, making their way toward the exits.

The train had come to a complete stop, and students were chatting animatedly.

"I'm starving," Dean heard Ron say behind him.

"Amen, man!" he exclaimed. "_Please_ tell me that there's gonna be food…"

Harry smiled. "Mate, there's gonna be so much food you're not going to know what to do with yourself."

Dean instantly brightened. "Alright then, what the hell are we waiting for? Excuse me!" he pushed around the crowds to the front, and out the doors. Even though he was nowhere close to his brother anymore, he still heard Sam muttering apologies to kids around him for Dean's behavior.

Dean didn't care though, his stomach was growling and he needed to feed the beast.

He followed the crowd to a bunch of carriages that at first he thoughg were pulled by some sort of horses, but as he approached, he noticed that they were slightly reptilian, black, fleshless, and had cloudy white eyes. There were wings on either side of their skeleton-like bodies, and Dean could barely suppress a shiver looking at them.

"Whoa," Sam gasped, finally catching up to Dean. "What are those?"

"What are what?" Ron asked, looking around, blankly.

"You can't see them?" Harry asked Ron, who shook his head, as did Hermione.

"It's alright, I can see them too." said Luna, who had no hesitation climbing into the carriage behind the strange beasts. "I've always been able to see them."

Dean watched as Harry and Sam glanced at each other skeptically before climbing in after the strange girl.

Dean felt like he should know what the reptilian-horse was; shadows of horrible memories clouded his head, which made his insides drop, and for a moment he pondered on the dark thoughts. But his hunger overpowered his curiosity, and he too hopped into the carriage. Then the beast took off at a brisk pace, and they began their ascent up to Hogwarts.

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Authors note: I want to thank everyone again for all the reviews! It's really amazing how much feedback I'm getting and often how close you guys guess to the plot! Maybe I'm predictable- or maybe you're just really good... anyways, this is one of the chapters I found really hard to sit down and write (obviously- because it took like a month) but I hope you guys keep coming back 'cause it's about to get interesting...

RayeB


	14. Chapter 14

It was something out of a dream. The Hogwarts castle loomed above them, growing larger and larger as they approached. The sky was black and dotted with gleaming stars that seemed impossibly bright. The castle's turrets illuminated the castle's huge outline, along with the green grounds surrounding. Sam stared out of the carriage window in utter awe; he couldn't believe such a place could actually be a school. Sure, the supernatural horses pulling them left him with an uneasy feeling in his gut, but little else could spoil the moment.

He watched kids his age call to each other from all around as they jumped from their carriages and hurried through the great wooden doors that lead inside. Sam stared at them all eagerly; children really did take for granted the simple things in life. For so long, he'd been the new kid at school. For so long he'd been considered an abnormality- the class freak. For so long he'd wanted to feel accepted by his peers at school, and suddenly, along with a swooping feeling in his heart, came the realization that because of this hunt, he was finally getting his chance. He beamed excitedly, and Dean looked over at him, eyebrows raised.

"Keep your pants on, Sammy…" the older Winchester whispered deviously.

Sam shoved him, and avoided a half-hearted punch thrown back at him by Dean.

He looked up at Ginny who made immediate eye contact with him, her smile curving the corners of her full lips upwards. Her pretty freckled face made him blush, and she sat across from him, so his long legs caused his knees tap against hers as the carriage jostled along the path. He did not want to look away, but felt it'd be weird to stare at a girl he barely knew for much longer, so he quickly resumed looking out the window over Harry's shoulder, attempting to eliminate any further eye-contact with the curvaceous red-head.

Trying to occupy his thoughts on something other than Ginny's lips or her legs or the hand she ran through her long hair, Sam watched as Harry, who sat beside him, fidgeted nervously, leaning sideways every once in awhile in order to catch a glimpse of the strange skeletal horses shouldering the carriages. He seemed perturbed by them, and Sam knew that he should have been as well, but he somehow knew that the beasts were not dangerous. Maybe it was his hunter's instinct, or maybe it was something anyone could feel. Luna seemed perfectly comfortable with their presence.

He shook his head slightly, and found himself looking at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's robes. He noticed that they all had a red emblem emblazoned with a lion and a 'G' on them, while Luna's had a raven, with a blue 'R'.

"Do your robes represent what house you're in?" Sam asked Hermione. He knew private schools, especially European private schools, had class houses in order to maintain order and create scholarly rivalry.

"Oh? Yes, yes they do." Hermione immediately went into an in-depth explanation about the Hogwarts houses, supplying more information than Sam probably ever needed to know.

"So lemme get this straight," Dean began, after Hermione's elaboration. "There are four houses you guys are sorted into? Does that mean me and Sam are gonna have to be sorted too?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't see why not. I mean- you _are_ going to be students."

Dean frowned. "Just as long as I'm not in Slytherpuff." he said, completely serious, causing the entire carriage to erupt in laughter, eliciting a new explanation on the pronunciation of 'Gryffindor', 'Hufflepuff', 'Ravenclaw', and 'Slytherin'.

Sam hadn't felt nervous since he'd sat down on the train. But as they exited the carriage, made their way up the massive stone steps and went through the behemoth wooden doors, Sam felt his insides squirming sickly. He felt slightly ashamed admitting to himself that he wasn't nervous because of the demon hunt, but rather about another first day of school.

Sam glanced over at Dean, who looked perfectly at ease, though slightly out of place in the magnificent castle. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his brown leather jacket, ripped jeans, and worker boots while in a sea of black robes and black hats. He was certainly attracting a lot of attention, mostly from the female population, and Sam was pretty sure that none of it was negative attention. Sam suddenly felt awkward in his dress pants and button down shirt.

_I should have listened to Dean_, he thought, fumbling with his attire.

Ron shook his head. "You blokes have been inside for five seconds and you've already gotten more attention from girls than I've gotten my entire life." he moaned, which garnered a scandalized expression from Hermione, though Ron did not notice.

"Very true, mate," Harry admitted, thumping his friend on the back. "But I'd rather get no attention than be looked at like _that_…" Harry pointed to a group of younger students, who were staring at Harry like he was pointing an AK-47 at them; fear and accusation was written all over their faces. When they noticed Harry had seen them, they quickly darted into the crowd.

Dean looked to Harry, expectantly. "What the hell was that about? Why were those midgets giving you the old 'evil eye'?"

Harry chuckled darkly, and pushed his dark hair over his lightning-bolt-shaped scar, attempting to hide it. "That's a story for another day…" he admitted, and Dean, for once, didn't press the subject.

"So, you guys live in a big ass castle?" Dean observed instead, staring up, seemingly to Sam, only mildly impressed by the vaulted ceilings, the gleaming silver suits of armor, and the elaborate paintings, that, like back at Grimmuald Place, were animated. "What's in there?" he asked, pointing to huge room where all the students and teachers were assimilating.

"That's the Great Hall," Ginny said, then turned away for a moment to briefly hug a group of giggling girls.

"It's where we eat all of our meals and is pretty much the busiest section of the school." Ron added rolling his eyes as Ginny's friends made eyes at Dean.

"Food? That's where I'll be spending the majority of my time then!"

Harry and Ron laughed. "You and I both, mate…"

Sam didn't want to spend his time in the Great Hall, however. He was itching to explore, his natural curiosity nipped at his feet to wander and see all he could. He was still marveling at the sheer size of Hogwarts; he couldn't believe he'd actually be living in such a place. He'd gone day to day for his entire life from living in shady motel rooms, sleeping in the cramped backseat of the Impala, and squatting in abandoned buildings, and suddenly, here he was, staying in a colossal ancient castle, fit for a king.

"So, since it's a castle, does that mean we get servants?" Dean questioned, though his tone was unreadable, and Sam wasn't sure if he was entirely serious.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, when a hand touched her shoulder. Sam looked to see a tall, straight-backed, elderly woman, with graying hair pulled up in a tight and bun. She wore emerald robes, and reminded Sam faintly of a drill instructor- he could tell she was strict just by looking at her.

"How was your holiday, Ms. Granger?" she asked Hermione, but she stared at Sam and Dean from behind her spectacles.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, excitedly. "It was fine thank you. And yours?"

"Lovely," the Professor added absently, observing Dean's attire with an almost palpable distaste. "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that the two of you are Dean and Samuel Winchester?"

"Yahtzee," his brother stated, scratching the back of his neck, and smirking openly.

Ron and Harry glanced to each other and Hermione's mouth popped open.

McGonagall raised one of her thin eyebrows and Sam went instinctively into damage control, fearing that Dean had _already_ made a bad first impression. "I'm Sam and he's Dean," Sam explained, giving her a shy smile that never seemed to fail on authority figures. "Sorry about my brother," he added to her in an undertone. "He gets like this when he's hungry…"

The stern teacher's expression was no longer hard, but she did not answer kindly. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer for supper, Mr. Winchester," she informed them. "The Headmaster would like to speak with you, right away."

Harry perked up. "Dumbledore? Can I speak with him as well, Professor?" he asked, eagerly.

Sam noticed that McGonagall seemed to have a slight soft spot for Harry. The crease between her eyes softened a miniscule amount when she looked at his hopeful face. "I'm sorry, Potter. The Headmaster would like to see Mr. and Mr. Winchester in private."

"But I'm supposed to stay with them," Harry argued. "How are Sam and Dean supposed to look out for-?"

"Potter!" McGonagall warned. "We will not discuss such matters here."

It seemed that what McGonagall ordered was law. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and a sulking Harry, uttered good-byes to Sam and Dean before entering the now crowded Great Hall which left Sam and Dean to face McGonagall and Dumbledore, on their own.

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It felt like the millions of other times during his old school days when Dean would be escorted to the principal's office for some sort of misbehavior. Like the tons of times he'd beaten up snobby little 'Mama's-boy's', or the times he'd laughed in a teachers face, deliberately disobeying them, or like the time back in the fifth grade when he'd told Molly Ringer that the monster under her bed sounded pretty serious, and that Dean's dad would be more than willing to blow it's head off with his shotgun.

Dean had to keep reminding himself that, although he looked younger, he was still the nineteen year old man deep down inside; not a sixteen year old high school student. And he definitely wasn't in trouble at the moment.

Or so he thought.

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Author's Note: Ooops. Sorry I had to end it there. The next part is way too long to fit easily into this chapter, so you'll have to suffer. :) Heehee just kidding. Thank you all so much for the reviews!!! This story almost has 100 in all!!! That's amazing- thank you again, and check back soon!

RayeB


	15. Chapter 15

It felt like the millions of other times during his old school days when Dean would be escorted to the principal's office for some sort of misbehavior. Like the tons of times he'd beaten up snobby little 'Mama's-boy's', or the times he'd laughed in a teachers face, deliberately disobeying them, or like the time back in the fifth grade when he'd told Molly Ringer that the monster under her bed sounded pretty serious, and that Dean's dad would be more than willing to blow it's head off with his shotgun.

Dean had to keep reminding himself that, although he looked younger, he was still the nineteen year old man deep down inside; not a sixteen year old high school student. And he definitely wasn't in trouble at the moment.

Or so he thought.

It was a long walk to Dumbledore's office, and while McGonagall strode straight and true, Sam bounced along side Dean, his long lanky body quivering with excitement, absorbing all the information about Hogwarts he could. Dean himself smiled at the goofy expression on his little brother's face, and he barely noticed in time that McGonagall had already halted in front of him.

Dean peered around McGonagall's thin frame, to see that they stood before a stone gargoyle. Its face was contorted in a snarl, and looked pretty life-like, but other than that, Dean found it unremarkable; and impassable. There was no way around the wall or the hideous gargoyle. He was about to ask McGonagall if they had taken a wrong turn; Dean was even slightly embarrassed for the woman, thinking that she was getting on in age, and perhaps was becoming more forgetful.

But she seemed unfazed by the barrier, and gazed on it with purpose. "Fizzing Whizbee," she stated, causing Dean to glance at Sam, who looked equally dumbfounded.

There was a sound of the scuttling of stone, and Dean looked back at the gargoyle just in time to see that it had sprung to life, and leaped aside. The formally impassible wall separated magically, revealing a spiral staircase.

"Ah... _Again_ with the secret passageways?" Dean observed, grinning cheekily. "You know plain old doors work just as well…"

Dean could have sworn McGonagall's lip had given the slightest of an upward twitch, as though she would like to have smiled, but instead she just scrutinized them behind her eyeglasses.

"The Headmaster would like to have a word with the both of you," she explained hastily, her eyes boring into them, urgently. "But we do not have much time. We have much to inform you of, however-"

Dean waved a hand, "We're good with quick facts. We don't give much crap about details…"

"What Dean means is," Sam began, yet again in his 'damage-control' mode. "Is that in our job, we relay information fast and effectively. Whatever you can tell us will suffice for now."

Dean resisted the urge to clock his little brother one on the head.

_Suck-up_… he thought.

"I see…" McGonagall uttered, though Dean could tell he had made her even more hesitant. He was getting _really_ _good_ at making _really bad_ first impressions.

"Look Professor," Dean blurted, bluntly. (He saw Sam physically cringe in his peripheral vision.) "I know you don't like me, or like me and my brother's tactics, but I swear to you that we're here to do our job- which is to help you and this school however we can."

Dean didn't break eye contact with her because he knew that he couldn't show weakness. He and Sam needed the respect.

She broke it first. "I'm glad to hear it, Mr. Winchester." she said, visibly relaxing.

Sam mirrored Dean's feeling of surprise.

"Now quickly- up the stairs, please. Professor Dumbledore has much to explain in only a little time."

Dean, now feeling more confident in his ability to soften the heart of even the coldest of old ladies, trooped up the stairs first, came to the oak finished door, and raised his hand to raise the brass door knocker in the shape of a griffin; but before he was able to bang it, Dumbledore somehow knew to summon them:

"Come in please, Dean," his old deep voice invited, and Dean obeyed.

Even from just walking in, Dean immediately felt that Dumbledore's office was inviting. He felt completely out of place in the round room, surrounded by strange silver instruments, piles of magic books, clean plush furniture, and the countless portraits of older important looking wizards, but nonetheless, he was at ease. Again for some impossible reason or another, the Headmaster's office _almost_ reminded him ever so slightly of an impeccably clean and expensive version of Bobby Singer's house. Well, _almost_.

Headmaster Dumbledore himself was behind an enormous claw-footed table, seated in a high-backed chair. "Dean, Sam," Dumbledore greeted. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Dean wasn't sure what he was expected to respond. _Thank you_, perhaps? So he took Sam's lead and just inclined his head, politely.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore waved his wand hand and two wooden chairs appeared from thin air.

"Hm, neat trick," Dean said, trying to seem unimpressed.

Truth be told, Dean didn't want to have anything to do with wands or their magic. He had enough hunting experience to know that in a fight, those who used magic never played fair.

He and Sam sat, and while Dean eyed Dumbledore's wand warily, Sam observed it eagerly.

"I anticipate that you have quite a few questions-"

_That's the understatement of the century_, Dean thought, sardonically.

"However and to our further misfortune, I am afraid that we have no time but for the most immediate and pressing issues." He paused for a moment, as though planning his choice of words in advance. Dean couldn't help but think that he and his brother were about to be slighted by the ancient Headmaster.

Dumbledore placed his elbows on his wooden desk, and pressed the tips of his wrinkled fingers together lightly, and stared past Sam and Dean to where Professor McGonagall was standing. "With the Ministry of Magic… how do I put this… more _involved_ with the affairs at Hogwarts this year, I have gone to great lengths to make your enrollment here appear to be legitimate."

"Hmph!" huffed McGonagall, making both Sam and Dean raise their eyebrows and glance back at her in surprise. "'_Involved_', Albus! The Ministry has been prying into business it ought not! Practically shoving their noses up our a-"

"That will do, Minerva," Dumbledore cautioned, and she fell silent.

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes surveyed Dean now. "I am old friends with the Headmaster at Salem Academy of Magic," he explained. "and she swears that no matter what Ministry official asks, she will vow that Sam and Dean Winchester did attend magic school in Salem. Luckily, however, our Ministry is far too preoccupied at the moment to investigate too much into our little charade. It's a small bit of luck for us; only this time last year the Ministry was immensely involved with every one of our foreign affairs, as we had many of them."

Sam looked hopeful. "So there's no suspicion about us?"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore answered. "That is precisely why I've asked you to meet with me so abruptly."

"Why don't you just spit it out?" Dean asked quickly.

"Dean!" hissed Sam, who grew red.

"Calm down, Sammy," Dean insisted. "Look, Headmaster- I just don't wanna be jerked around by you guys. No offense, but I just want to do my job. And that's to find this demon and kill it. Then I want to get back to the States. So please, just cut to the chase."

A long moment of silence followed. Only the strange puffing and whizzing noises from the silver instruments broke the strained silence.

Dean wanted to look to Sam and McGonagall, both of who he was sure were glaring mutinously at him, but he looked Dumbledore in the eye instead, until, miraculously, the wizard broke into a smile.

"Of course, Dean- forgive an old man. I'm afraid old habits die hard." Dumbledore bent down under his desk and pulled up two sleek looking wooden wands. "I am so used to protecting my students I suppose it must just be in my nature to want to protect the two of you. But I will learn to remember that you are not a child Dean, and that you and Sam have seen terrible things."

Dean didn't expect Dumbledore to be so understanding. "Um, thanks." He stated, rubbing the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"Now let's 'cut-to-the-chase', shall we?" said Dumbledore. "You are here, of course, to locate and destroy this demon."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, and Dean was sure it was to ask how Dumbledore knew, but the wizard beat him to it.

"I know it is a demon, Sam, because I have seen it. The details are not relative at the moment, it is more important that you know that it is a demon. However, I must ask much more of you; too much, but I will ask it anyway." Dumbledore's eyes had lost their blue smile, and they had turned serious. "Harry Potter needs protection. I am sure this demon will try to go after him, and that's where the two of you must guard him."

"We've heard all this before." Dean muttered impatiently, slouching down in his uncomfortable chair, lazily.

"But I have not stressed the importance yet." Dumbledore answered quickly. "Harry's protection and well-being is critical this year. If anything were to happen to him… well, he has a destiny to fulfill-"

"I don't believe in destiny." Dean interjected, feeling hard-headed.

"I am not asking you to. I'm simply relaying to you what has been prophesized over a decade and a half ago."

Dean had no answer to that.

"Do you mind me asking what his destiny is?" Sam said, still playing the innocent part, whether intentionally or not, Sam and Dean always seemed to play the part of good-kid, bad-kid. Dean was usually the bad kid.

"It is too complicated to explain at the moment when we are so pressed for time, but I can tell you; Harry's destiny will determine the fate of the wizarding world."

Dean clenched his jaw. Harry and Sam were around the same age, and Dean had a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach imagining Sam determining the fate of mankind. _He would hate to have to protect someone he loved when they could so easily destroy the world._ Dean shook his head to rid himself of the strange feeling. This was Harry they were talking about; not Sammy.

"Harry must stay safe in order to complete his destiny. And this year I will be unable to protect him myself."

"Why can't you protect him?" Sam asked. "I'm not trying to be rude or anything, sir; it's just that I noticed already that you won't even talk to Harry."

Dumbledore shook his white head. "You Winchesters are so observant… that, Sam is another question for another day. For now I just want your word that you'll protect Harry in every way you can."

Dean wanted to argue, to interrogate Dumbledore further, but his instincts knew that Dumbledore was honest and wasn't trying to deceive them. What Dumbledore was asking of them was no different than what John asked of Dean every day since he was four years old: to look after someone and keep them safe.

Sam answered immediately, suddenly and strangely obedient. "Yes, Sir."

Dean sat up a little, and straightened his father's brown leather jacket that still smelled every bit like John. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, will do."

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For a moment there, Dean had been lost in thought. Sam had been weary for a moment, thinking Dean would refuse Dumbledore and insist that he and Sam leave immediately; Sam didn't want to go back to America, back to the constant moving, back to John... But good old Dean always seemed to come through in the end…

"Excellent," Dumbledore praised. "Now for a slightly less pressing, but _not_ unimportant issue… the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has decided to send one of his _loyal_ employees to observe the happenings of Hogwarts. I'm afraid it's partially my fault," Dumbledore said with an amused twinkle in his eye. "Fudge is under the impression that I'd like to have his job."

Sam didn't know Fudge, but Sam was sure that a man like Dumbledore would be a very intimidating opponent.

But Dumbledore and McGonagall were both smiling. "I, of course, have no desire to be a part of the Ministry, nor do I have any desire to work at the Ministry of Magic.

"Which is why Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Jane Umbridge will be a professor here this year." A frown appeared behind Dumbledore's half-moon glasses. "She will act as Fudge's eyes and ears. And on more than one occasion I have seen that she enjoys severe punishment."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "She sounds like a sweetheart…" he muttered darkly.

"Dolores Jane Umbridge? That's really her name? Geez, what a freakin' mouth full…" Dean chuckled, nudging Sam in the forearm.

Sam was quick. He caught on to what Dumbledore was trying to convey to them. "So she's gonna want to meet us then, isn't she?" Sam asked.

"Right again, Sam," said Dumbledore, pleasantly. "She is actually on her way here as we speak. She obviously wants to make sure parts of your 'story' add up with that of the Headmaster at the Salem Academy of Magic. Of course, she won't believe for a second that you two are actually students. Fudge accused you both of being international wizarding spies."

"Ha!" exclaimed Dean, beaming at Professor McGonagall, who gave him a stern look. The smile slipped off Dean's face and he looked away awkwardly.

"They sound really paranoid…" Sam observed, running a hand through his dark hair.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Dolores Umbridge is especially paranoid, as well as bitter, angry, corrupt, irritable, and in-denial."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. He turned to his brother who faced him in turn.

"It seems like she's pretty unstable… what do you think?" he asked.

"Sounds like she'd be pretty open for demonic possession." Dean answered simply.

"Definitely," Sam agreed. Things were finally getting started…

"My thoughts exactly," sighed Dumbledore, who picked up the wooden wands again. "Umbridge wants to meet you today, but over the school year she will interrogate you in order to find faults that make you slip up and reveal that you are not truly wizards. Of course, without wands, there is no way you'd last a single minute in her investigation. That is why I have made these." He held one wand out to Dean and one to Sam.

Sam carefully but quickly, took his wand from Dumbledore, and weighed it in his hands.

Dean on the other hand, stared at it like it was something the Impala had run over. "You're serious?" he blurted. "You _do_ realize that we _aren't_ wizards and that there's no way in _Hell_ we can do magic, right?"

"Believe it or not, Dean, I have been gifted with a certain amount of brainpower and have already realized and solved that problem." Dumbledore snapped, though playfully. "These are not the sort of wands your classmates have, though they look and perform identically like them." He placed the wand in Dean's hand, and Dean held it gingerly by the end and extended away from him. "I developed these wands myself. It took many hours, but through a complex series of charms and enchantments, I've managed to harness the excess magic around Hogwarts to channel through these wands whenever commanded to."

Sam and Dean stared at the Headmaster blankly.

"English please?" Dean joked.

Dumbledore blinked. "Think of the wands as conductors of magic. Sort of like how metal is a conductor of electricity. Normally, magic comes from within a wizard, and is controlled through incantations and ultimately the wand." Dumbledore took out his own wand, and demonstrated by saying, "_Accio quill_!"

A quill immediately flew in mid-air, all on its own, across the room to Dumbledore's hand.

"So, by using the excess magic around Hogwarts, the magic will come from around you, and not inside you like real wizards, but will still only be cast through the wand."

"Wow that sounded amazingly gay…" Dean whispered in Sam's ear. _Leave it to Dean to make one of the most interesting moments of Sam's life a pun. _

"Why don't you try it?" McGonagall interjected.

"You doubt my work, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes.

She pursed her lips. "I doubt them." she answered, tartly.

Sam felt motivated; he wasn't used to having teachers doubt him, no matter what the subject. He focused, really focused. Almost like when he was about to take a big test in history, or more frequently, when he focused in his instincts during a hunt. He let the focus take over, and waved the wand as Dumbledore had. "_Accio quill_," he repeated.

He couldn't believe his own eyes as the feather pen flew from Dumbledore to him. His hand shook as he reached out and snatched it from the air.

Dumbledore grinned and clapped his hands. "Excellent, Sam! Really magnificent!"

Sam smiled back. He knew it was only a small magical feat compared to what Dumbledore could do, but he liked the attention; John had never praised him like that…

"Why don't you try, Dean?" Dumbledore said.

Dean looked down at the wooden shaft in his hand. "Nah, no thanks, I'll pass."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist." Dumbledore stated, with a little bow. "The whole plan revolves around the two of you being capable of wielding these wands."

Dean sighed dramatically. "Fine," he scrunched up his face a little, looking at the quill in Sam's hand. "_Accio quill_." he growled.

Nothing happened.

Sam watched with his own embarrassment as Dean turned a little pink, and cleared his throat. "_Accio quill_," he repeated a little louder.

Still nothing.

Dumbledore did not look discouraged however. "It may take a few tries. Sam getting it on the first try was not something I anticipated…" he admitted, and Sam felt McGonagall's eyes bore into his back.

Dean tried a third, and fourth time. It wasn't until the fifth time that the quill moved in Sam's hand, and finally floated slowly to Dean.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore stated. "Those wands will work perfectly in time." He promised. "As for Umbridge, she will be here in a moment's time, so stick with your story, and all will go over smoothly."

Sam heard the secret stair-way to the Headmaster's office open up. Dean looked to Sam, pointedly, hearing the _click-click_ of high heels coming up the stairs.

"Y'think this chick's gonna be hot?" Dean uttered, to Sam, hopefully.

Sam didn't know at the time, but Dean's hopes would never be realized.

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Authors Note: Please let me know what you think. Review?

-RayeB


	16. Chapter 16

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With a name as ugly as, 'Dolores Jane Umbridge', Dean figured that if there was any good in the world at all, the woman would get some sort of universal compensation with a slamming hot body and a pretty face to go right along with it. But Dean should have known from all his battles with evil that there was no fairness and no balance in the universe; Dolores Jane Umbridge was _**one ugly broad**_.

Hey- he was an honest guy. And there was no way of putting Umbridge's looks into a positive perspective. … And worst yet- draped on her shoulders was a frilly, fluffy, obnoxiously pink cardigan. Dean felt his whole body involuntarily cringe at the sight of it.

Sammy was looking resolutely away from him, but somewhere away from Umbridge as well. Dean knew his brother well enough to know that Sam was compelled to laugh, but was too 'sensitive'- girlish Dean thought- to actually do it.

Umbridge seemed to be able to spot a troublemaker from first glance. She took one look at Dean with his ruffled hair, rugged jeans, and leather jacket, and her eyes bulged like a frog's might. She clutched at the sleeves of her cardigan, as though Dean had every intention of ripping the frilly pink thing right off her shoulders and running off into the sunset with it. Then she shot a quick look at Sam, seemed dissatisfied and finally turned to acknowledge Dumbledore.

"Professor," she squawked in a high-pitched voice Dean did not expect. "Thank you for meeting with me before term has even begun. The Ministry of Magic must take precautions you see…"

"But of course Ms. Senior Under-Secretary," said Dumbledore in a low voice. "Though too many precautions can prove to be too tedious…"

"There's no such thing as too many precautions." rapped Umbridge harshly, then she let out a strangely girlish giggle. "Especially when it comes to _foreign affairs_…"

She looked to Dean and Sam again. "You must be Mr. and Mr. Winchester," she continued. "Dean and Samuel, if I'm not mistaken?"

"No mistakes," said Dean cockily.

"It's a…_pleasure_, to meet you both." Umbridge stated; though she certainly didn't seem pleased. "I am sure we will soon be great friends."

_Great friends my ass_, thought Dean wickedly, making a mental note to give the woman as much trouble as humanly possible.

Umbridge and Dumbledore spoke for awhile, but Dean really wasn't paying any attention. All he could think about was the grumbling in his stomach; besides, Sam, being the perfect little suck up that he was, was totally attentive, and therefore was listening enough for the both of them-

"Dean," Sam's voice interrupted his lazy stupor, making him look up to realize that all eyes were upon him.

"Hmm?" he grumbled awkwardly. He had slouched over in his seat, and Dumbledore stared kindly down at him.

"I was just saying to Sam here, how it's getting late," Dumbledore noted. "And if we Sort the both of you now, we just might be able to make it back to the Great Hall in time for some pudding."

Dean was tired and hungry enough to only truly process the word 'pudding'. He immediately nodded. "Yeah sure, I'm totally ready."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together, and Umbridge frowned. "Here at Hogwarts, we have a very special way to separate our students into their houses…" he walked to a high shelf, and pulled down an old pointed hat and sat it down on his desk. "We call it the Sorting Hat."

"Yes, it is quite unique, isn't it Headmaster?" piped up Umbridge, evilly. "Tell me, Mr. Winchester, how do they sort students at Salem Academy?"

Realizing that the 'Mr. Winchester' was directed at him, and that Umbridge was totally trying to trick him, he gave a fake innocent smile, and answered, "Well, see _Professor_, we don't Sort at all back home in Salem."

Dean's sarcasm earned a warning glare from Sam, whom Dean ignored and forced his attention back on Dumbledore.

"So, I think oldest should go first," continued Dumbledore. "Dean if you would be so kind…"

Dean awkwardly placed the raggedy hat upon his head, feeling ridiculous, and very aware that all eyes were still on him. He liked being the center of attention, but definitely not under the circumstances.

Besides, he doubted the whole 'Sorting' thing would even work on him; he wasn't magical, _and_ he didn't want to be at Hogwarts. He wanted to be back home in the Impala, following his dad's truck that flew down open stretches of endless highway. Dean wanted to open all the Impala's windows, and blast ACDC, and sing loudly and obnoxiously in Sammy's ear, until his brother, who sat in the passenger's seat, gave in and sang right along with him. He wanted to-

"_Such loyalty_", a voice said in Dean's ear, startling him from his daydream. Dean realized that the voice was the hat. "Loyalty to your brother and your father… my, my, what an interesting mind…"

Dean tried not to let his face convey too much of how uncomfortable he felt, as the Hat observed his thoughts and memories, because Sam, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Umbridge still watched him; though Dean was pretty sure they could not hear what the Hat was saying.

"Courageous and heroic- and _such _confidence, though perhaps arrogant at times…But what's this?" the hat continued. "Underneath all of that, you are just trying to avenge the death of a mother you can scarcely remember…?"

_Get out of my head, you son of a bitch_. Dean thought, wanting to tear the hat to shreds. There was no way a dumb hat could understand what he and Sam and his dad had been through-

"On the contrary Dean, I see and feel everything you ever have." The Hat wasn't taunting him, it wasn't evil…. but it was unnatural. "In spite of all your hardships," the Hat continued, "you've still managed to stay on a righteous path; helping others that need it, and keeping what remains of your family together. _Even if it wasn't required, Dean Winchester, I would still put you in_-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat voiced aloud so that Dumbledore, McGonagall, Umbridge, and Sam could hear.

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When Dean had put the Sorting Hat on, Sam could not hear what it was saying, but he could tell it was causing Dean some sort of anger; his face had been etched with the stony glare he had only when he was remembering something that truly upset him.

Seconds after the Hat announced that Dean was in Gryffindor, Dean threw off the Hat and shoved it at Sam, not looking up at any of the Professors, or giving any further sign of what that Hat had done to trouble him.

Now Sam was filled with anticipation and excitement, and glanced to Dumbledore, who signaled that it was fine for him to put the Hat on.

He did.

Somehow inside his head, Sam felt the Hat internally shudder, and retreat away from him. "Oh my," it said in his head. "Samuel, you have seen some truly terrible things… some things that you cannot even recall…"

He wondered if that Hat had found the memory of his mother. The one he could not remember, and yet had been right in the room as she had died; her stomach bleeding, as she burned on the ceiling right above his nursery.

But that Hat seemed to retreat further away from him. "I will not bring this burden upon you sooner than need be." it whispered vaguely in his mind. "With all this darkness and evil you face, and all of it sleeping inside you… no… no- sorting you into Slytherin would only awaken that."

Sam wasn't sure how to react to the fact that a hat was not only fearful of him, it pitied him, so he did not say or think a word.

"I have not given advice to very many, so please listen." the Hat continued. "I ask that you do your duty to the wizarding world and to Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter- that you hunt down this demon and rid the school of its evil- but as soon as you get the chance, run away from here as fast as you can. Being here at Hogwarts, in this world of magic, it is not good for you, Sam Winchester. It will only bring you, and those around you, _pain_.

"So I hope to not see you again, Sam Winchester. Good luck in-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat's voice rang aloud, and then it went limp- as though it were a regular old hat once more.

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"Wow." Sam stated, as they were suddenly shooed out of Dumbledore's office. Sam found himself looking around at his brother, who in turn looked uncharacteristically frazzled.

"'Wow' doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling, little brother." Dean sighed, his leathery hands pressing hard on his closed eyes. "I feel like I'm in a nightmare and I can't wake the hell up."

Sam frowned. 'A nightmare', was not how he'd describe the situation they were in; it was more like a crazy dream come true. But, he did not dare disagree with Dean aloud. "It's all just…" Sam searched wildly for a word to describe how he was feeling. "_Intense_…"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Ha!" he barked, stalking away from Dumbledore's office, and from Sam. "'Intense' is even worse than 'wow'."

"Well, c'mon Dean- this is a little exciting, wouldn't you say?" he was chasing after his brother now. "I mean, it's not every day we get to go to a wizard school-"

Dean stopped in his tracks. "Dude- do **not** tell me you are in any way, shape, or form, actually _liking_ this mess we've stepped in!"

Sam sighed, knowing some sort of argument was heading his way. "I'm not saying I like it necessarily, all I'm saying is-"

Dean shook his head. "No. Just, _just no,_ Sam, okay?" Dean jammed his hands into his leather jacket pockets, staring frustrated up at the ceiling. "Man, I don't even know why we're doing this goddamn hunt in the first place…we should be with Dad. You should be at school. At a _real_ school Sam," Dean continued, seeing how Sam was about to butt in. "Not a freakin' wizard school."

"We agreed to do this hunt, Dean," Sam explained calmly. "It's not like we can walk out on all of them now. Hell, we came all the way here; we might as well finish what we've started."

Dean's green eyes pierced through Sam's. "Of course we're gonna finish the hunt. Did I ever say we weren't?" he sounded insulted, and Sam was surprised. "I'm regretting ever agreeing to it, but we did, and now we're gonna do it. And we're going to do it as fast as we possibly can."

Sam frowned. "But didn't you just say, 'I don't know why we're doing this goddamn hunt in the first place'-?"

"Can't a guy complain every once in awhile? C'mon!" his jaw was clenched. "And that stupid Hat put me in a really bad mood."

Sam felt a guilty jolt in his stomach, recalling the harsh and foreboding predictions that had been made about him as he was Sorted. Had the Hat predicted horrible things about Dean's future, as it had Sam's?

"Well, what'd the Hat say to you?" he asked, careful to appear anxious.

Dean looked at him seriously for a long moment, and for a split-second Sam thought Dean was actually going to tell him. But then his brother broke out in a grin. "Ha! Like I'm gonna tell you what some magic hat said to me in my head… I swear to God, it sounds like our lives have turned into some freakin' Disney movie gone wrong…"

Before they had left, Dumbledore had told them to hurry back to the Great Hall, but Sam quickly formulated other ideas to get his mind off of his Sorting.

He and Dean had reached a fork in the hallway; the one on the right was brightly lit, and was the correct way back to the Great Hall. But the long corridor to his left was black, unknown, and practically begging to be explored.

"Hey Dean," Sam beckoned, stopping at the dark corridor's archway. "The Great Hall's this way."

Dean frowned, stopped dead, and looked back and forth between the two hallways. "I thought it was this way…" he replied, with a twinge of hesitancy.

"Nah, I remember." Sam lied, knowing perfectly well that Dean was right. "It's definitely this way."

Dean looked skeptical for a moment, but then seemed to shake it off. "It's hard to tell where the Hell I'm goin' in these creepy hallways..." he complained, gesturing to the bracketed torches on the stone walls, while following Sam's long stride. "Has anybody ever heard of electricity?!" he bellowed to no one.

Sam was about to remind Dean that electricity didn't work at Hogwarts (which is why they couldn't use their EMF readers or cell phones), but he thought better of it, seeing how Sam was already going to be in enough trouble when Dean found out he had lured them in the wrong direction on purpose.

After a few more minutes of walking down the hallway, Sam could hear Dean's stomach start to growl.

"Dude, I want some pudding **so bad** right now…" Dean mumbled somewhere behind Sam. "There's gotta be an easier…" Dean trailed off for a moment, and Sam realized that his brother was no longer following him. "Oh… oh you didn't…" Dean groaned accusingly.

Sam looked back at his brother. "Didn't… didn't what?" Sam attempted feebly.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, you totally didn't just lure me in the opposite direction of the delicious pudding waiting for me in the Great Hall just so you can get your weirdo nerd-boy-explorer kicks!!!"

Sam scratched at the back of his head. "I did." he admitted.

"Yeah? _No crap_!" Dean turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way they came, muttering mutinously under his breath, "When I get some food in me, you are _so dead_!"

Five minutes later and even Sam had to admit he had no idea where he was. As if the glares from Dean weren't enough punishment, Sam started feeling the empty churning of his stomach; he too could really go for some pudding…

But it was as they rounded yet _another_ dark corner, that Dean threw his right arm out in front of Sam. Sam began to react, as though Dean were attacking him, but caught sight of Dean's hardened face; the one he only wore when he sensed immediate danger, and stopped himself in order to heighten his senses.

Now that Sam concentrated, he, like Dean, could feel that something was amiss. He'd felt it a hundred times during every hunt he'd ever been on. _He knew that something supernatural was around the corner_.

Sam nodded once, and backed up against the cold stone wall behind his brother.

In the same unspoken moment, they both unsheathed their weapons of choice from their jean pockets; Dean, a .45 pistol, and Sam, a Glock gun in one hand, and his new wooden wand in the other. Dean shot his second 'weapon' a quick glare, but realized that there was no point in arguing, and instead beckoned Sam to duck below him and around the corner, why Dean remained standing, so that they both had clear shots from two different angles.

Dean gave a signal with his hand, and at the same moment, both brothers turned around the corner, weapons raised, and cocked.

But before Sam could completely register the silvery form of the gruesomely half-decapitated ghost before them, Dean shot three quick rounds of rock salt through its opaque body; obliterating it in an instant.

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Author's Note: You have every right to be upset about my lack of updates. I'm upset too. It really sucks. But still- I'd love to hear from you guys. I miss hearing what you have to say... You know the drill.


	17. Chapter 17

Previously:

**...Dean gave a signal with his hand, and at the same moment, both brothers turned around the corner, weapons raised, and cocked.**

**But before Sam could completely register the silvery form of the gruesomely half-decapitated ghost before them, Dean shot three quick rounds of rock salt through its opaque body; obliterating it in an instant...**

************************************************************************

Harry looked up from his pumpkin juice. Everyone around him was busy enjoying the feast, and chatting animatedly, but Harry could feel that something was wrong. It was strange enough that the first-years Sorting had taken place with the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress absent, but stranger still was the absence of quite a few others-

"You've noticed too?" asked Hermione, who sat at the table beside him, her food scarcely touched.

"Yeah, yeah I have noticed," said Harry, frowning, while looking about the Great Hall yet again.

"Whad ditchu nawh twish?" asked Ron. Harry was surprised he could make any noise at all; his mouth was completely filled with cherry pie.

Hermione glared at Ron, as though she had never seen anything so revolting in her entire life. "Excuse me?" she said, grimacing.

Remarkably, Ron was able to swallow. "What did you notice?" he repeated, though rather hoarsely.

"_Harry_ and _I _noticed, Ronald, that all the school ghosts are missing." Hermione explained with a palpable air of superiority.

"You don't need to be so snotty about it," Ron mumbled irritably under his breath to Harry, who cracked a quick smile.

"What did you say?" Hermione questioned, her hair whipping about her face, and eyes blazing.

Ron looked taken aback. "I-I said that- that that's odd," he lied quickly. "They're usually all here for the Feast… I wonder what's taking them…"

Something dawned on Harry right then. "Hang on," he began, looking to Hermione, with a sinking feeling in his gut. "You don't think…"

Ron raised his eyebrows, eagerly. "Don't think what?"

"That Sam and Dean have something to do with it?" Hermione began darkly. "Yes, I do."

In one swift movement, Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, which had been bundled up under his robes. "What are we waiting for then?" He looked to his two best friends, who exchanged hesitant glances, and beamed.

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It was almost like an ambush. It happened so suddenly, that if he and Sammy hadn't had their weapons drawn already, Dean was pretty sure he and his brother would have been ghost chow by now. _Well maybe not ghost _**chow**, Dean reasoned, seeing as ghosts didn't eat. But they'd surely be a lot less alive.

There had been one ghost originally, one with its head hanging gruesomely on by just a tiny flap of skin, but Dean hadn't waited around to get killed himself, and had shot the son of a bitch straight away. Problem was, not only did the nearly-headless ghost reappear seconds later, it seemed to have brought a horde of ghastly friends with it.

"Sam, stay down!" Dean bellowed, as he fired another two shots around the corner, and as at least fifteen ghosts hurdled towards them.

Sam did as Dean said, and crouched further so he had a different firing angle than Dean. Sam obliterated two ghosts, one a fat balding friar, and the other a young woman in a long elegant dress, and Dean whooped triumphantly, firing at a rather disgustingly blood soaked man's spirit, only to cry out in frustration as they reappeared, looking angrier.

"Dean, this isn't working!" Sam shouted over the din as Dean fired once more. "We gotta move!"

Dean, feeling stubborn and out of control, quickly snapped, "Shut-up Sammy, I'm working!" the KER-PAK of his .45 echoed in the cavernous halls, followed by the sound of the salt fragments pinging against the stone.

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder urgently. "These ghosts are too powerful. They probably have some sort of built up defense to the salt because they're magical."

Dean shrugged Sam off and reloaded his gun. "Impossible, man," he growled, digging in his pockets for more ammo. "Witches can be repelled by salt," he glanced around the corner to see that the ghosts were moving slower, and more cautiously towards them now.

"_Sometimes_, Dean! A witch can only be repelled by salt _sometimes_! And that only applies in very, _very_ rare cases, when the witch is unbelievably weak and inexperienced! Even low level witches can sprinkle as much salt as they want on their Mickey D's fries-"

Dean noticed, with great annoyance, that Sam wasn't even covering him anymore. He was just standing beside him against the wall and away from the battle.

"Are you gonna help me or not?" Dean asked gruffly, turning his gun around the corner, his next shot going through three different ghosts.

"There's no point. We gotta move. These ghosts were all once unbelievably powerful witches and wizards. We can't win this fight."

Dean looked over at Sam's face, and saw his pleading, anxious eyes, and knew he'd already surrendered to his little brother.

"Fine," he huffed. "But as we're running away, don't trip and fall, okay, _Samantha_? 'cause I'm too mad at you to run back to save your ass this time…"

"_This time_?" Sam scoffed, firing his Glock gun one last time, before tucking it back into his jeans. "When do I _ever_ trip and fall?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and kept his gun out. "_Try every freakin' day little brother_. Now GO!"

Without further ado, Sam took off at a sprint around a side corridor, and Dean followed, turning back every once in awhile to shoot half-heartedly.

It definitely didn't help that Dean was following Sam, who had absolutely no idea where he was or where to run to. They were running blind and scared- two things Dean never allowed himself to be.

"SAM!" Dean bellowed through his bared teeth to his brother, who was half-way down the next corridor. "One of your geek-boy plans would _really_ help right about now!"

Dean turned his back on the ghost he'd just destroyed to face Sam, who had turned towards him, to reply. But instead, Dean saw Sam's eyes widen in sudden shock.

"DEAN! BEHIND YOU!" Sam shouted, and Dean whirled, to see three ghosts, who looked fit to kill.

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As soon as Harry heard the KER-PAK echoing in the halls, he pulled out his wand, and stopped abruptly. Ron and Hermione, who trailed behind him, also hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, proceeded to ram straight into him.

"Ouch, Ron!" Hermione gasped, after bumping her head on his extended lanky elbow.

"Quiet!" Harry shushed, with a finger to his lips, and Ron and Hermione grudgingly listened, taking out their wands as well.

Another deafening crack came from somewhere nearby.

"What's that noise?" Ron asked quickly. "Sounds like a duel or something. That's what guns sound like, right?"

Harry nodded his head. "Yeah, for the most part. But I've only ever heard one in movies… it must be Sam and Dean."

"What could they possibly be firing guns at?" whispered Hermione, a definite tone of fear in her voice. "I mean they just got here and they're already shooting things?"

Ron failed to cover up his laugh.

"What, Ron? What could possibly be remotely amusing about the use of firearms?" Hermione

"You sound like you're more afraid of guns than you are of wands!" Ron scoffed. "You're a witch for Merlin's sake, Hermione!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. Though Ron made a good point, he was too irritable to acknowledge it. Especially since Hermione and Ron seemed to have started some sort of never-ending verbal battle. Though the two had argued ever since they had been friends their first year, it was becoming more frequent a thing, and Harry was quickly tiring of it.

"We need to go help them." Harry stated, trying to get back on task.

He felt both of his friend's eyes on the back of his neck.

"What?" said Hermione as Ron simultaneously asked, "Why?"

"Help them," Harry said a bit more slowly, his irritation growing by the nanosecond. "Help them because they wouldn't be firing guns unless they needed some sort of protection."

Hermione's brown eyes frowned. "But Harry, _they're_ here to protect _you_. Not the other way around."

"She's right, mate," Ron supported. "It's a bad idea." Ron looked down at his large feet, averting his eyes. "Sam told me he and Dean had all the training they need to fight any sort of monster- even if we did help we'd probably just be getting in the way-"

Harry couldn't help grinding his teeth, or the angered laugh that hissed from his lips. "Just a second ago you two were going at each others throats, and suddenly you align together to form a united front against me?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "We aren't against you, at all…" Hermione said hesitantly.

"Yeah? Well it feels like it." Harry puffed, feeling childlike.

"You sure you're alright, Harry?" Ron questioned.

Harry felt his cheeks burn. What was going on with him? He seemed to be losing control of his emotions, and he was finding it easier and easier to take it out on his two best friends. "I'm fine." he lied, quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just that I-I really think we should help Sam and Dean, that's all."

Hermione stared at Harry intently as Ron toyed with the seams of the Invisibility Cloak. "It's just-" Hermione began, but Harry wasn't having any of it.

"Look, will you please quit stalling? We- we should… we should at least check up on them, alright?" Harry urged, attempting to make a compromise. "And if whatever they're shooting at is far too dangerous for us to help with we'll- we'll go get Professor Dumbledore or something." Harry invented wildly.

Harry could tell he'd one this battle as soon as Hermione let out a long sigh.

"Alright," she said, though with a noticeable reluctance. "But we'll just take a peak."

"Okay," Ron caved, at Harry's determined glance. "Just a quick look though! I really don't feel like having the mickey torn out of me today…"

************************************************************************

KER-PAK! KER-PAK! -

"OOMPH!"

Dean was able to fire at the first two ghosts before the third, the most sinister looking one, with the silver blood spilled all down his front, managed to become a full body apparition, and throw Dean clear across the stone corridor and into a wall.

"Dean!" Sam shouted again, sprinting towards the ghosts, and towards his brother.

Sam knew from his fifteen years of hunting experience, that there was no way two hunters could take on over a dozen magically powered ghosts and come out whole. And their plan to flee from the fight wasn't working either; especially since Dean was lying on the floor, cradling his right hand in pain.

"Damn it," Sam heard Dean growl, as the oldest Winchester pushed himself to his feet, switched his gun to his left hand, and fired once more at the bloodied ghost.

"You okay?" Sam asked, as Dean quickly recovered, and ran for him.

"Of course I'm okay," Dean muttered, looking embarrassed. "Just made a stupid mistake…"

"You're hand's alright?" Sam asked skeptically, hurrying down the seemingly endless corridor alongside Dean.

Dean shot him an annoyed glance. "Of course it is, bitch. I'm just gonna shoot with my left hand for awhile. I've never been as good with my left- I'm overdue for some practice anyway…"

Sam was about to acknowledge the fact that Dean's left was just as good, if not better, than Sam's right, when he paused. "Hold up," he whispered, his instincts screaming. "Where'd they all go?"

Dean swung around too. The ghosts that had been trailing them, and _beating_ them, were gone. The only trace that they had ever even been there was the white powder that was rock salt, which lightly covered the floor.

Dean's green eyes intensified. "No way they'd give up that easy." he predicted.

Sam nodded, wiping his long hair out of his face. "Definitely."

They crept against the wall again, and Sam felt the similar feeling as before that there was something just around the near corner.

Sam looked to his brother, and Dean nodded once. Counting to three silently in his head, Sam whirled around the corner at the same time as his brother; a dangerous, but more often than not, effective tactic they'd practiced together.

For a split second, Sam felt an instant relief in his gut- there was nothing there but open hallway. But then a moment later, he heard a gasp come from nowhere, and then a girl's voice cry out something strange-

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Sam felt his whole body lock up, like he'd been restrained in a straight jacket- unable to move his arms or legs- and he fell to the floor, rigid and stone-like. He tried to wriggle, but to his horror found that the curse did not come undone. A million scenarios- of him being paralyzed for life, unable to help Dean or his father, unable to ever walk again- raced through his mind. Try as he might he could not move.

All of his other senses were working though- he could still hear Dean bellow, "SAM!" and saw his brother aim his .45 onto nothing and fire wildly, so that the rock salt ricocheted off a window.

Then Sam was able to hear the same girl's voice shout, "Expelliarmus!" and watched in horror as Dean's gun flew out of his outstretched hand.

"What the-?" Sam heard Dean gasp. "Sonnuva_bitch_!"

First ghosts, and now invisible magic casters? _Man, they were screwed_.

************************************************************************

Dean's insides were writhing. A part of him wanted to bend down and make sure Sammy was okay, but the other part of him, the more rational part, wanted to run down the hallway, and charge at the invisible foe; and give whatever it was the beating of a lifetime.

Instead, Dean stood in the open hallway, utterly defenseless, with a broken hand, in front of his possibly unconscious baby brother. He clenched both fists in fury, and was too caught up in his own anger to even flinch when his injured hand audibly cracked. Dean did not take losing well.

"Show your face you bitch!" Dean yelled, blindly at everything in the dark hallway.

"Dean," he heard a slightly familiar voice call hesitantly. "It's just us."

Out of nowhere, and in the flutter of a previously invisible cloak, Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared, all three of them with their wands raised.

"Don't you point that thing at me," Dean ordered, eyeing the wands with hatred. "What the hell did you do to Sam?"

"He-he's fine, Dean," Hermione stammered, shaking a little. "You two just shocked me, that's all. You jumped out and surprised us, so I-"

"You what?" Dean mocked. "Cursed my brother? You better curse me too, 'cause I am _this close_ to kicking all of your asses."

Hermione paled a little and turned towards Ron.

Harry moved a bit toward the Winchesters. "No one meant any harm, Dean," he said slowly.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, _no one_ at this place seems to mean any harm, but they sure do cause a lot of it." _Ghosts, teenage witches, what was next- a freakin' chimera?_

"Dean, I can put him right," Hermione stated, gesturing at Sam. "He's just frozen; all I need is to-"

"Don't!" Dean bellowed. "I think you've caused enough trouble for one day, sweetheart. Now give me back my gun."

Harry gently took the gun from Hermione, who seemed close to tears, and walked it over to Dean, who unconsciously moved more directly in front of Sam.

"I can do the counter-curse if you want," Harry said to Dean, after Dean had grabbed his gun back.

Dean wasn't weaponless anymore, but he definitely wasn't in charge of the situation. He was a man down, _and_ a _hand_ down; plus he was outnumbered. He hated himself for saying it, but there was something similar about Sam and Harry. Harry stared at Dean, an honest open stare, and Dean knew he meant no harm. "Do it."

"_Finite incantatum_," Harry murmured, his wand pointed at the youngest Winchester.

The reaction was immediate. Sam let out a deep exhale and laid on the floor in relief, his muscles no longer tensed.

Harry extended his hand, and hefted Sam to his feet, both smiling awkwardly.

"Thanks," Sam said to Harry, and Dean frowned.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," Harry began, tucking his cloak and his wand in his robes. "What were you both firing at anyway?"

Dean watched in horror as the nearly headless ghost suddenly fully materialized in back of Harry. "**That**!" Dean exclaimed, and Harry turned determinedly, his wand at the ready, as Dean raised his gun ready to shoot.

The battle was back on.

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Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone for their awesome reviews!!! It's amazing how you guys keep with this story more than I do- and I appreciate it so much! Reviews make the world go round!

PS: WHO ELSE IS SUPER EXCITED FOR SEPTEMBER 10TH?!!!?!!


	18. Chapter 18

The moment Harry saw Nearly Headless Nick, glaring at the Winchester boys in cold fury; the questions burning in his mind were answered. He remembered asking Sam, the first day that they met, what he and Dean hunted.

"_All sorts of things_." Sam had said. "_Anything that's supernatural_."

But Sam and Dean didn't realize that Nick and the other ghosts at Hogwarts weren't like the ghosts the hunters faced normally… Harry quickly reached out to grab Dean's arm to stop him but, KERPAK! Dean's gun exploded and fired an array of white pellets at Nearly Headless Nick's grimacing angry apparition, and the ghost vanished.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into a frenzy of simultaneous explanations.

"Please! Stop shooting him!"

"He's our friend!"

"He's a good ghost-"

Dean lowered his gun down to his hip, but it was still obvious to Harry that he had tensed, and would not hesitate to pull the trigger in Nick's face again. The eldest Winchester's eyes scanned the hallway, his ears ignoring Harry, Ron, and Hermione's desperate pleas. Harry never would have suspected that someone so likeable and collected could transform into a calculating merciless hunter in the blink of an eye.

"A good ghost?" Sam asked, turning toward them, his pronounced brow low over his brown eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"The-the ghosts here," Hermione began, glancing hesitantly at Dean, who had continued to scowl heavily at her. "Aren't like the ghosts you normally hunt. They were once wizards here; they live peacefully here-"

"Bull!" said Dean. "Did that thing look peaceful to you?"

Hermione's shining face paled at Dean's growl.

"Dean," Sam muttered, quietly, moving closer to his brother. "Maybe we should-"

"_Sam_." Dean barked quickly, silencing his little brother with the dark look still on his face.

"But I swear," Hermione began valiantly again, "the ghost's don't want to harm you-"

"I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth anymore, sister. Do yourself a favor and stop talking."

Ron's face burned a deep crimson. "Don't you talk to her like that!" he exclaimed to Dean.

Dean's clenched jaw and piercing eyes turned on Ron. "You don't want to start with me, Ginger. I've seen my way around this kind of stuff since you were in diapers. _I'm_ calling the shots. _You're_ gonna shut your cake-hole." And in the strained silence they all could hear Dean's fingers slide over the metal of the gun.

Harry watched Dean with a new found fascination. The eldest Winchester was a warrior and a protector; everything Harry needed to be now that Voldemort had returned. And he suffered the same weaknesses as Harry- the need to protect, the love for his friends, and his stubbornness.

"Dean, I'll show you." Harry announced. "I'll show you Nick's good."

Ron and Hermione swiveled toward him with the same pained expressions.

"No way," said Ron. "They're supposed to be protecting you, mate! Not using you as some sort of bloody shield!"

"All I'm asking you to do is fire your gun one more time." Harry stated. "That should be enough to bring Nick back here. Then let me talk to him."

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam said, "Okay. Let's try it."

Wordlessly, Dean pointed his gun toward the ceiling and set off two loud rounds. Immediately the air grew colder, and a form began to appear at the end of the corridor, and was quickly approaching.

"Nick!" Harry called out, when the ghost was only a few feet away. "It's me- Harry Potter-"

Nick had stopped short, floating inches off the ground, with the same horrible look on his face. Harry had never seen him look so frightening- he might have even given the Bloody Baron a run for his money.

The Winchesters were tense and seemed ready to explode like the guns that were clutched, white-knuckled in their hands.

"Nick," Harry said again, though a little less hesitant. "Nick, look at me."

Almost as though he was coming out of some sort of trance Nick's eyes unfocused and looked round, like he was not sure where he was. He shook himself slightly, causing his head to roll dangerously off his lacy, blood-sodden collar.

"Harry?" Nick gasped. "Sorry my boy, must have dozed off for a moment… It's good to see you- may I ask how your holiday was?"

"Um, it was alright, I suppose…" Harry blurted, taken aback.

"Ah! Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley!" Nick exclaimed, spotting Hermione and Ron. "Good summer I hope? Mine was abysmal- once again I was denied-" Nick stopped short- his pale eyes glued to the two Winchester boys. "What's this?" he demanded. "Who are these young men?"

"Nick," Harry said carefully, "this is Sam and Dean. They're hunters- but they mean you no harm-"

"Hunters!" Nick gasped, his head falling completely to the side, the piece of ghostly skin stretching precariously.

Harry was prepared for another brawl, but, to Harry's immense surprise, the ghost smiled. "Why, hunters haven't graced the halls of Hogwarts for near a century and a half! Well met Samuel and Dean!" Nick righted his head on his shoulders, and bowed low to the two boys.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, but they looked just as confused as he, Harry, felt.

"Hang on a second," said Harry, closing his eyes. "Are you saying that hunters have helped Hogwarts before?"

Nick's eyes widened. "Well of course! Whenever Hogwarts is in trouble they call on ancient hunting families. I believe the last time the establishment required an exorcism was under Headmaster Nigellus… though I could be mistaken-"

"Ancient hunting families?" Sam cut in, looking astounded.

"Hunters have been present at Hogwarts for just as long as the witches and wizards that helped found it! Surely you boys know all about the Campbell family hunters?"

"Campbell's..?" said Dean to Sam, dumbstruck. "Mom?"

... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... * ... *

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean knew the idea was ridiculous. There were thousands of Campbell families in the world- there was no possibility his mother, Mary, could have been a hunter. He was simply grasping at straws- searching for a connection in a foreign and strange world, where there really was none.

Sam's eyes stared at him, something similar to hope blazing in his eyes. "Do you really think so, Dean? Do you think Mom was a hunter?"

"Ah, you boys _are_ Campbell's then?" said the ghost, Nick. "Not surprising- you do have very similar physiques to that of Luke Campbell- a great man and great hunter-"

"Winchester's." Dean growled suddenly, a fire sparking within him somewhere. "We're not Campbell's- we're **Winchester's**. We couldn't possibly be related to any sort of ancient hunting family."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione and Ron exchange serious looks, and both of Sam's hands run over his face. "Dean," his younger brother began, "you can't just dismiss this. There could be something to it-"

"Sam, seriously- _no_. Mom was not a hunter. You know that." Dean turned to the ghost. "And another thing- what sort of 'ancient wizard family' would allow a truck-load of ghost to just run around, huh?" he asked. "Any good hunter I know would shoot you all full of salt and iron and send your sorry asses packing."

The ghost smiled again. "Campbell or not you do have their knack for disdain… No- if you have not noticed, we wizard ghosts have a greater handle of control for our emotions. We know what we knew in life in far greater detail than those of our Muggle-kin. A knowledge of magic in life allowed us in death, to sustain memories and keep a good hold on our sanity."

"Of course." piped up Hermione. "In _A History of Magic_, they explain that Hogwarts' ghost's past magic in their lives, as well as the schools magic, fuel their afterlife far longer than an average ghost."

"Precisely, Miss Granger." The ghost Nick agreed. "Therefore, Mr. Winchester, I can reason just as rationally as you."

"Oh yeah?" Dean countered, "Care to explain you and your buddies back there trying to kill us then?"

Nick wrung his hands. "Yes well, that was regrettable and I'm very embarrassed. I do apologize-"

Sam laughed. "I have to admit, a ghost apologizing, that's definitely a first…"

"No hard feelings then boys?" Nick asked.

Dean gaped at him. "No- no hard feelings? Are you freakin' kidding me? You're a ghost-"

"Nick- maybe you should just go." The red-headed Weasley boy suddenly butted in.

"Stay outta this, _Ronald_," Dean sneered.

"No I really should be going." said the ghost. "I'm very late for the feast, as are you children. Best be going."

"Wait a minute-" Sam called out.

"Stop!" Dean exclaimed. "We're not done here!" But the nearly-headless ghost had already vanished into the adjoining stone wall, leaving Sam with unanswered burning questions, and Dean, with a probably broken hand, and several rounds of unused rock salt.


End file.
